With moonlight caressing my face and tears of
hopelessness and helplessness soaking my pillow, the gift was quietly present.
Jesus
Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
When anger tumbled out of my mouth in a torrent of words
spilling from a trampled soul, the gift belonged to me.
Jesus
Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Forgetting the darkness in my heart and judging the
shadows in my neighbor’s, the gift whispered its presence.
Jesus
Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
While coveting another’s talents and sulking in scarcity
and ingratitude, the gift shimmered its offering.
Jesus
Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Arrested by penetrating love shining from my crucified
Savior’s face, the gift announced its name.
Mercy
Mercy flows on the parched landscape of my soul.
Mercy transforms ashes to beauty.
Mercy triumphs over judgement.
Mercy illuminates my beloved uniqueness.
The gift I didn’t ask for comes wrapped in extravagant
mercy and overflows with love for me.
Jesus Christ, my Savior and my Friend.
Jesus
Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
