I'm not sure what it is about the achingly sweet yet haunting melody of this hymn, but it fills me with a sense of Holy Presence every time I sing it.
As we approach the darkest days in our calendar, I would like to think it's no coincidence that our celebration of God coming near lands here.
While the lack of sunlight makes us yearn for summer and warmth, I am reminded of God as a baby: growing fingers and toes and eyelashes in the dark, unseenness of Mary's womb.
We wait with Mary, knowing what is to come, yet sitting in the not-yet-ness of it all, praying:
We hope you come, Lord Jesus.
We hope you come into all of our not-yet-ness
With all of your newborn perfection
we hope you remind us that the darkness of
night,
winter,
womb,
and tomb
serves a good purpose, too.
And that all this waiting
isn't for naught.
We hope.
Amen.