Twas a night that showed no sign
Of being any different from a hundred
And peace was not the order of the day.
It was a long, exhausting trip,
But little choice was given when it came
To matters of tax to pay.
The winding road had been a crowded
And little courtesy was shown the two
Who often fell behind the pace,
And when at last the many paths converged
Outside the city gate,
Exhaustion and the pain of pending birth
Showed all too clearly on the woman's face.
A room - a place of rest and solitude -
Was all that mattered now.
All else would hold
A few more hours before the secret they
These many months would in the very sky
But with each knock, each door that closed
The truth became more clear.
There was no room, Dear God, no room.
The young man hid his growing fear.
As in that moment doubt that seemed
So, long ago resolved
Cast shadows on his face,
He thought, "If this is really
God's own Son,
Why is there not reserved a place?"
"A place" - the words cut through
"Behind the inn - a barn."
It was the keeper's voice.
One look at Mary's face dispelled
all other thoughts;
He knew it was the only choice.
The only choice? Nay, God's own plan,
That in this way His own Son came,
Twas no misfortune, for in stooping
from His throne.
He knew the world would never be the same.
As in that humble stall God's presence
Came to dwell that night,
The hay, the stable smells,
The beasts themselves
Turned somehow gentle in that light.
So from the stable that same Light
Across all time and years,
And sheds a glow that even
in the darkness
Calms our fears.
Where we too find a refuge and can lay
Our earthly cares aside,
As in that humbleness of heart
God sends, still now
His presence to abide.
It is a world that shows no sign
Of being any different from
2,000 years before.
While it seeks peace through conflict,
May you seek - peace -
And find it - at the stable door.
Written by Judith C. Braddy
Submitted by Debbie Thompson