Open the door and let the still, strong thing in.
Even if you weren't expecting guests.
Even if, especially if, you feel imperfect and ashamed of the home you have made.
Do not worry.
All the cracks will be filled and your mountain of hurts be made low when you open the door and receive.
With that still, strong thing comes a holy host of the broken, with nothing left to lose, singing Hallelujah with one voice and a thousand tongues.
Do not worry that there are not enough chairs or food or love to go around.
That's not what they're here for.
All those things are provided by the God of Gifts and the Master of This House.
No, they've come for those things only you can provide -
the losses you've tallied,
the things you've neither forgiven nor forgotten,
the lies that slip easily from your mouth,
and the tears you've shed over the person you've become.
Pack up your hurts and your wounds and your broken, porcelain soul
-that's what they've come for.
After all, these are angels and you are unaware
that the only thing they want is for you to be light enough
to join them in the end.