Lord of quiet arrivals,
You do not knock with noise,
but breathe softly at the edge of my thoughts.
You do not tear open the heavens,
but open the smallest room of the heart
where stillness becomes Your throne.
I have looked for You in thunder and triumph,
but You come instead in the hush of understanding,
in the courage to forgive,
in the small mercy that no one sees.
Teach me to wait not for a sign in the sky,
but for the stirring within me
when love begins to move again.
If Your coming depends on my welcome,
then let every breath say, Come.
Let every silence prepare a manger for Your peace.
Let every thought be swept clean
for the light that already stands at the door.
I do not ask to know the hour —
only to stay awake when You pass by.
Let me be among those who recognize You,
not because You shone,
but because You loved.
You are nearer than my pulse,
gentler than my words,
and still I forget You.
But in this quiet moment,
let forgetting end.
Come again, Lord —
not from far away,
but from within.
Amen.