Meager Gifts

I come to the manger 

Longing-hearted

Empty-handed

but for a jumble of humble offerings

The gift of generosity 

Wrapped in the soggy trimmings 

of tear-stained, pain-filled grimaces 

The aspiration, "I want to trust"

written across my heart in childlike scrawl, 

wrapped in countless unanswered questions, lack of understanding, doubt 

The gift of a small pause 

Housing at its center the thought of Him, 

Buried deep as it is within endless layers of daily duties and distractions

I leave at the foot of the manger

These paltry offerings 

my meager widow's mite 

For a king, seemingly helpless

Himself in very picture of humility

A king deserving so much more 

than what I have to give - 

than what the world will ever give

And yet

I leave

Empty-handed

But full-hearted

The smile of His quiet eyes

speaking of delight and gratitude 

I take with me 

A new joy born into my soul

Knowing He knows 

That in the simplest, messiest of offerings, 

I have sought to give Him all.