Unfolding

Each night brings something new, as I run on broken sidewalks, past houses, in the cold.

Here is a wreath with a bright red bow, where yesterday stood an empty door. And here, a wire reindeer, grounded, grazing, lit white. I round the corner to meet a smiling snow man and his smiling snow woman, bound in a globe where snow falls onto their carrot noses. Along the weathered grey of a picket fence, white lights create a contour I did not notice on other nights.

Garlands and bows, gingerbread men hung from a roof line. Spiral Christmas trees that look like lost cones from a child's giant double-scoop ice cream. Simple, single candles in quiet windows. A star of Bethlehem hanging from a tree.

Each night brings something new. It is a slow unfolding towards Your birth, the remembrance of Your birth.

Come, my Child, unfold yourself in me.