Father, the house is finally still.
The wrapping is done — most of it. The dishes are mostly clean. The kids are mostly asleep. The list is mostly finished, and the parts that aren't, are not going to ruin tomorrow.
Tonight, the world had no room for You.
Help me make room for You. Now. Not at the service. Not at the meal. Right now, in the kitchen, before the morning is full of paper and small voices and noise.
Thank You for coming the way You came. Not as the king we would have built. As a baby in a borrowed stall. As a child cold in straw. As the kind of love that does not require anyone to be ready for it.
Tomorrow I will probably forget half of this. So receive it now while I remember.
In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.