This is no ancient fairytale told of an attending

companion to one crowned by high birth

this – no imagined fabulous fiction

no mere myth of gods and goddesses.

In this story – an angel, a message – a maiden

given a small jewel to carry beneath her gown.

Pregnant with promise beyond expectation she waits

to give birth to something wondrous

waits – dreaming the Light of the World

to be born in midst of behovely darkness falling

silence deepening, deepening.

Who will attend her when her time comes?

In this story – the creaturely gather round

attending the birth of the one promised to illuminate

creation’s embrace of all, even beloved lowly ones.

This is a story of Advent told in a trying season.

In this story – a world gripped by a dark affliction –

an angel unfurling an ancient promise once more

a woman willing to carry it in her being, bearing the message

to Everywoman everywhere waiting

sheltered in place in body, in spirit and mind

insofar as she surely finds possible

her heart carrying the weight of the world.

In the midst of this season darkening to deeper

each singular woman waits, silently chosen

once more to bring forth from within

something wondrous from something small

that she may mother

lifegiving light to all creation waiting

as told in this one ancient improbable story – joyous –

eternal – quite unlike any other.