an advent unveiling

The snow falls softly at first,
big thick flakes that melt on impact,
then picking up steam,
blow sideways
and form a shimmery, gossamer veil
that steals the moment
like a half-rate, ham actor
chewing the scenery and upstaging
what is earthy and real,
hiding it under drifts of glistening white

but when the sun shines warm
and the gutters become dirty with slush
what was there all along shows that it, too,
is a veil hiding a disquieting truth…

this unveiling of an unveiling will reveal
all our beauties, treasures and trophies
as only sullied stand-ins,
mere imitations of what is perfect and persistent:

while waiting in the wings are justice and mercy
that will fall down like rain,
like snow turning the world forever
permanently, gloriously white.

Liz McFadzean 

“The good news…starts with the glad declaration that the old order—whether Imperial Rome or Imperial Me—has been overthrown…Every time we speak out for justice, every time we make peace…we’re announcing that this wreck around us isn’t yet the kingdom—it gets better than this…that the kingdom is fully here only when we see—by sight, not just by faith—the unveiling of Christ.”    Russell Moore

photo by Meredith Barnes