This year for Christmas, I will be spending some time in my barn. I have forsaken the decorated tree, the trimmings, and all the trappings of a modern holiday in favor of a simpler, more meaningful experience. After all, isn't a barn where it all started, anyway?I will take in the mustiness that lingers in the aisle; I will feel the cold as it flows through the wood siding; and I will listen. Yes, I will listen to the breath of the donkey, his exhales looking like smoke from a chimney in the crisp, cool air. I will listen to the soft sounds of the sheep as they work on a new bale of hay. The cows, I'm sure, will be lowing in the pasture, and the thundering hoofbeats of the horses racing one another in the cool early morning will resonate in my very core. I will watch as the wind whips through naked branches, causing downed leaves to dance across the yard, and I will wonder what it was like that first morning--a newborn baby in a dirty, cold barn. It is the epitome of humble beginnings, and a lesson in how they can turn into greatness.
There is a scripture that says, to paraphrase, do not despise humble beginnings. Perhaps Christmas should remind us of why.
I believe I am too far down the road to go back to the glittery, tinsel-filled holiday celebrations of times past. I am older and, hopefully, a bit wiser now. I want to remember and contemplate the essence of what Christmas is--or should be.
Fighting traffic in the city yesterday, watching the hoardes of tired people with unhappy expressions only underscores my conclusion that it isn't really about the gifts at all, but about THE gift.
Perhaps, this Christmas, we should take pause to remember just how simple and perfect that first Christmas morning was and appreciate the gift. I know that, sitting on a cold step in my barn surrounded by warm, furry animals crowding in for a gentle touch, I will.
Merry Christmas, all. May you be blessed with a vision of the beauty of simplicity.
