In this site...
No Room
"And she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in
cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the
inn."
-Luke 2:7
Getting Ready for Christmas
What my daughter taught me
about preparing for the Messiah
by Anni Welborne
The sun slipped
below the frozen December horizon just
as we pulled up to the barn. My friend,
Faith, had invited us out to visit, sort
of a field trip for my daughters. My
friend owned a few cows, and we were
there to watch her milk the cows, learn
about the barn, and taking care of
cows.
As Faith’s two teenage children rounded
up the cows, Faith gave us a tour of the
yard and the barn. She discussed with
my newly-turned five year old daughter
the importance of the fence rails and
especially the gate, how important it is
to keep it closed to protect the cows.
We then went into the barn. The early
December wind was sharp, so we were
thankful to get into the relative warmth
of the barn.
Faith pointed out all the various parts
of the barn – the hay lofts, the stalls,
the mangers, the various tools, the
halters, the grain hopper, and the
milking equipment.
My daughter noticed right away how the
mama cow went right to the spot where
she would be milked and patiently
waited, without Faith having to guide
her. Faith explained that a little bit
of training at the very beginning made
that obedience possible. Faith helped
Christy realize that as she practices
obedience, it becomes easier and easier
to do the things her parents require of
her. I loved Christy’s light bulb
response… “Oh!....”
Christy pet the sweet, placid cow while
Faith washed the udders and hooked up
the milking machine. Christy was
completely grossed out when the cow
defecated while being milked. She
couldn’t understand how Faith could
simply stop talking, get the shovel, and
move the steaming pile over to the dung
heap just outside the door. Faith
patiently explained the obvious – that
the cow couldn’t flush the toilet, and
that the cow depended on Faith to keep
her and her stall clean. Again, that
“Oh….”
Then Faith allowed Christy to scoop the
grain mixture into the manger for the
cow to eat while she was being milked.
At first, Christy giggled as the cow
stuck out her big tongue to eat the
grain. But as the cow continued to lick
the manger, getting every last grain of
wheat and oats, Christy began to look
agitated and distressed.
Like any talkative little girl,
sometimes her mind worked faster than
her mouth, and she had some trouble
getting her thoughts out coherently. I
could see the little pink gears in her
brain spinning as she worked to
formulate her words. She almost visibly
shook with effort. Finally, she blurted
out:
“Mommy! Mommy! Joseph washed out the
manger first, didn’t he?!?!?!?!?”
My friend and I first laughed at
Christy’s distress…but then we stopped,
as we realized both the profoundness and
simplicity of my daughter’s question.
Did Joseph wash out the manager? And if
he did, did he use the water in the
trough, or did he get some fresh water
from the nearby well? Remembering
horrid, unrelenting nausea of my
pregnancies, I wondered if the smells of
the barn made Mary nauseated, or if she
were accustomed to such smells. Did the
cow poop...just as Mary was birthing the
baby? Was there a midwife in the stable
with Mary, or was Joseph her only
companion? Was the hay fresh or
moldy? The longer I thought, the more
questions I had.
Suddenly, the birth of Jesus went from a
nice little nativity scene on my mantle
to a real, smelly, scratchy, splintery
event. We live in such a sterile,
sanitized world. Babies are usually
born into a white, smooth, clean
environment. While this barn was fairly
clean, as far as barns go, it was still
a barn, and as such, one of the last
places on earth I would want my baby to
be born. If I had been in charge of The
Birth, I certainly would have prepared a
much cleaner place. No room in the
inn? That’s fine - how about a
neighbor’s house? A barn was the best
they could do?
Just as the bubble of my own
self-righteousness reached full sphere,
the strains of a Christmas carol drifted
through my mind….
“O, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There’s room in my heart for thee.”
"Pop!” went that self-righteous bubble….
Gone were the tinsel and light strings
in my mind. Gone were the visions of
Martha Stewart approved sugar plums.
Gone were the Better Homes and Gardens
arrayed tables. Instead, I was left
with the stark barn of my own heart.
And I had to ask myself…. Have I washed
out the manger of my own heart? Am I
prepared for the coming of the Messiah?
All those many years ago, He was crowded
out by things and people that seemed
important at the time. Bethlehem wasn’t
ready to receive Him as He deserved. Other guests, other parties, other
animals… And now, He gets crowded out
of my heart by similar things… gotta
decorate the tree, gotta make that batch
of cookies, gotta get those gifts
wrapped, gotta finish making that
present, gotta mail those cards, gotta
listen to yet another toy request from
the kids, gotta lotta do! And just
exactly how much of it is preparing for
the coming of the Messiah? None,
really.
Just how would one prepare for the
coming of the Messiah? Every idea I
came up with seemed absurd and
inappropriate in comparison to Who He
really is and why He really came. Then
it struck me. Nothing. I can do
nothing. I – sinful, wretched me, on
the welcoming committee for the Creator
of the Universe and the Savior of the
world? DO? When confronted with my
own sinfulness and Jesus’ magnificent
glory, it would seem like painting the
welcoming banner with stuff from the
dung heap.
I came to realize that the stable was
the perfect place for Jesus to be born. What a stark reminder of the differences
between our own sinful condition and the
perfect heart of that little baby.
Suddenly, preparations took on a whole
new meaning. Washing out the manger of
my heart? Fresh hay? I could do none
of it without that little baby who grew
into a Man. With His help, I could get
ready for His coming.
About the Author:
Anni is the wife of Charles
Welborne and the homeschooling
mother of five children - two
daughters (ages 7 and 5) here on
earth, and three who graduated
early and now dwell with their
Heavenly Father. She assists her
husband in the tape/CD
duplication ministry at their
church, where she is also in
charge of the Deaf ministry and
serves as a sign language
interpreter. Anni is also a
part-time Developmental
Therapist for at-risk and
developmentally delayed infants
and preschoolers. In her "spare"
time, she enjoys sewing,
quilting, scrapbooking, and
making pysanky (Ukranian
decorated eggs). The Welbornes
live in Indiana.
Copyright © 2007 by Anni Welborne.