December 2017
It can be cold
in Judea
in wintertime.
A young girl sits
on a donkey,
heavy with child.
Weary from travel
and troubled
to find no welcome
in the place
of their destination.
A town which had witnessed
the birth of a great king
who loved God
and ruled Israel
for forty years.
Her husband,
new to that role,
could find no shelter
for them
in this place of his forebears,
for many also had come
at that time
to be counted.
Head of
this soon-to-be family,
and greatly distressed
at the prospect
of failure
in meeting
this most basic human need.
All the more so
given
the weight
of the secret, awesome
responsibility
known only to them.
Providentially,
they learn of a cave
where they may spend their nights
in the company of animals.
Into this sad estate
the man leads his
pregnant wife,
enduring humiliation
as the price
for warmth
and shelter.
The woman, too,
accepting
the proffered lodgings
without complaint
though so very far
from what she had
imagined
as the birth space
for her child.
In the fullness
of time
the child is born.
A son,
destined for greatness,
laid swaddled
in a feeding trough
in a cave
with beasts of burden
his sole attendants.
Soon visitors come,
shepherds
summoned there
by distant voices.
Untroubled by
the rough surroundings,
their eyes behold
a sight unseen
and unexpected
and yet, foretold.
For there in that manger
lay Immanu’el,
king of kings,
God incarnate,
destined to rule
a new, heavenly, kingdom
whose end shall never come.
It is cold
in Connecticut
this winter.
Lights stream
though many windows
framing symbols
celebrating
the upcoming
holiday season.
This Christmas,
let us welcome
that child king
and give him shelter
in the rough surrounding
of our hearts.