For the Sunday-After Preachers, a Prayer

poinsettiasIn this liminal time between Christmas and New Year’s,
on the Sunday when our pews will feel empty,
and the left-behind poinsettias fade in chilly sanctuaries,
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayers.

For the darkness into which the light has just begun to return,
and the tired we can’t begin to measure,
and the mystery of why we didn’t schedule a carol sing,
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayers.

While stray ribbons and wrapping paper still entertain our pets,
and visitors eat groceries at an alarming pace,
and our Christmas cards are still unwritten,
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayers.

And…for the Sunday-after preachers – Associates, students, retirees and supplies, humble Seniors and eager solos,
walking the darkness of the Slaughter of the Innocents,
wandering in the wilderness with the wild man,
working hard to preach for whoever comes,
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayers.

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