What gift shall I bring to you, baby Jesus?
Shall I scour and clean for your arrival?
Shall I practice a song to lull you to sleep?
Shall I work at the stove to make you a meal?
Shall I buy you fresh clothes to wrap you warm?
Shall I worship loud and long praising your name?
Shall I decorate to give you a triumphal entrance?
Shall I bring you riches and treasure oh so fine?
(Spirit rustles, oh so soft)
“No, none of that is needed. Just bring me you.”
Me? But, I’m not enough.
“Certainly, you are.
Your presence is the gift you bring.
I’ll receive you, a sight to behold!”
But, I’m in my pajamas! And, (sigh), not great company these days.
“Come, come as you are.
I see beyond your wrapping, whether pajamas or tuxedo.
I see beyond your wrapping, whether pleasant or troubled.
I see beyond your wrapping, whether proud or timid.
Bring me your whole self and I will bring you mine.
As our hearts meet and mingle, you, too,
will see beyond your wrapping.
This, the place of communion,
is where the combustible spark
of my great love for you resides.”