Our second week of "Stories of Waiting" brings us another poem, written by congregant Jan Lichtenwalter.
Unsung Carol
No room in the inn in Bethlehem:
No room in the houses of all of them,
for a worn, weary woman, bearing her child.
The man standing close, bearing pain of her sorrow,
longing for warmth of the dawn of the morrow.
Will there be room? Our cares set apart,
Will we make room each in our own heart?
Mary, you're sobbing your fearful tears,
for your son, manger laid, pain of his coming years.
Joseph, you tremble a father's despairing,
a world full of troubled people uncaring.
Have we prepared a worthy dwelling?
Have we made room, our own hearts swelling?
No room in the inn in Bethlehem:
No room in the houses of all of them,
for a worn, weary woman, bearing her child.
Will we like the others, that long ago day,
Witness the mother and turn her away?
This Advent, may we all ponder the poem's gentle question: how long will you wait to create room for this family to dwell in your own heart, and others like them today?