May we find enough space in our constriction,
enough trust within our great fear,
to enter a season where mystery may envelope us.
As this frustrates our truths,
as we fight to grasp scraps of certainty,
may mystery still find its way in.
In a search for answers,
in the work towards finished products,
completed projects and crossed finish lines,
may there always be something undone and unnamed:
an empty seat, a Jesus-less manger, an unbooked hour.