I miss my mother –
standing close to her
to light the Sabbath candles,
the smell of her warm challah bread
mingled with the scents
of her freshly bathed body next to mine
as we pray together and joyfully enter the sacred night.
I never dreamed of delivering my babe away from home –
away from her
in a city with its noises even after dark
so little holy quiet in this place
squatting in smelly borrowed room
the kindness of innkeeper’s wife nearby
brought tears to me beyond the pain of birthing.
Now with newborn in my arms –
fresh eyes open and slowly focus on mine
hold me
then close in trust and rest
and for one brief moment
Love’s nearness undoes me and
I hear the noisy night whisper “Holy.”
—Rebecca Letterman, M.Div.‘08
associate professor of spiritual formation
