A Christian Poem of Anticipation in the Everyday

The kingdom comes while socks are spun,
while toast is burnt, while errands run.
Not in trumpets, not in gold,
but in the stories we retold.

The Spirit stirs in morning tea,
in traffic jams and lost car keys.
The sacred hides in mundane grace,
a whispered prayer, a wrinkled face.

We wait for Christ, but not in vain,
He walks with us through drizzle rain.
He hums along to laundry’s beat,
and blesses crumbs beneath our feet.

So let the kettle sing its song,
the waiting makes our hearts grow strong.
For joy is not some distant prize,
it’s God with us, in daily guise.