I think sometimes I shall never have a son. I’ve wondered why I am forsaken. I am forsaken of my legacy, a bestowing of my self, my property to an heir. How then shall I live on? How shall I show I made a difference in this world? What will be my mark, if my name is not passed down? I have pondered for many years these questions about my being forsaken of an heir. Along the years I have learned my questions are much about myself. I have held in high regard my wants, what should be done for my sake. Why should I not? All the world around me holds in high regard my wants. But have they been my wants, really? What is it I want, truly want? What is it I especially want when I say I want an heir? Do I want a continuation of me? For what purpose? Is it only duplication of which I speak? A replication of me, of my duties and rights? Is that all of which I can conceive. Conceive. I have not always known what it means to conceive. It is that which I ponder at present but there are few who help me plumb its depths. The many who want heirs, and those who have them, speak to me not of conceiving. They speak mostly of controlling. Is it only control I have been about? It is an arid and isolating thing; control. Was it an arid and isolating man I was becoming? My life was not so moist as it could have been. I am learning though with my beloved that moisture is where life is conceived, in the wet depth of togetherness. Neither legacies nor dynasties are born in such depths. Instead, there is born in such depths those who are humble and vulnerable. Thus, my humble and vulnerable son will be born. For his sake I shall love him and nurture him.
Prayer: Spirit, keep me messy with life
Question: Who are the little ones I am nourishing for their sake?
December 22, 2019 Matthew 1:18-24 Fourth Sunday of Advent