Do you ever have those moments during Advent when all you can think of is sinking to your knees on the dirt beside the empty manger? Your shoulders may be rounded because you're tired. Your eyes possibly rimmed in red because for a while there, you couldn't stop crying. Perhaps Your energy is gone. You may even be relieved that all you can do is wait, because that's all you're capable of. And you're hungry, much more than you're ever satisfied.
But that manger you're sitting next to is in Bethlehem. Bethlehem, the "house of bread."
Today I feel like I'm starving, not just for Jesus, but for life. It isn't easy for me to watch and wait for Christ right now. Lord, have mercy, sitting here makes me feel helpless. I'm as cold as a corpse, and the animals in my life are troublesome and wild. This will be no season of serenity. The Mother of God labors right here in our filthy, unworthy midst, weeping as if Christ were coming breech.
The only useful thing I can do is to sit here, watching, praying, waiting, and doing none of these well.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Be the bread that will nourish me. Be the meal that will give me strength. When I have no faith of my own, feed me, good Jesus. Son of God, to be born in the house of bread, you are the sustenance--the Eucharist, thanksgiving!--that makes me whole. Come quickly, Lord Jesus, meet me on the fallow earth, where dung, and blood and lingering evil fouls the air.
I come lowly as a slave, empty handed, wanted nothing more than to see you born. I come to give myself to you, and I wait for you to give yourself to me. Don't you see how hungry I am, to taste and see that you are good?
Come, Lord Jesus. Do not delay.