A Manger Memory

"Emmanuel, God with us" This reality has rung in my ears over and over again this Christmas. "What is man that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that Thou visitest him?" (Ps. 8:4) It is an awesome and overwhelming thought that God the Creator would make a way for us to not only know Him through His dear Son, but would allow for His abiding presence with us always. And not just that we can come to Him, but He came to us.

Roger and I have always made it a practice to read the Christmas story together as a family on Christmas morning before opening gifts and beginning our day. We knew this year would be different primarily because we'd be spending Christmas at the ranch with "our boys" there, those that did not have families to spend time with, or families they could not be with. Rog suggested we do something a little different.

So last night on Christmas Eve, we gathered down in the barn. We invited the girls' cottage next door and our resident wrangler and her family that was visiting, to join us. Rog placed a manger, one used in countless manger scenes and Christmas plays, in an empty straw-strewn stall. With a couple of horses occasionally snorting, the barn cats mewing at the invasion of their space, and the smell of wood and hay and leather in the air, we crowded in that little stall around the manger and listened in the quiet as Rog read the Christmas story from Luke. I then began singing Away in a Manger, then Silent Night as everyone joined in.

We worshiped last night in that barn stall, and celebrated the presence of our Savior who was with us in a very real way. Some of the kids wanted explanations..."what's a manger anyway...what does swaddling clothes mean??" The beautiful story so familiar to me is still foreign to many.

We have so many wonderful Christmas memories, time with family, time with special friends, times with our dear church family. Our boys are now making memories of their own with the beautiful families God has given them. And even though Rog and I celebrate a little differently than we used to, we're still making memories.

Standing in the quiet of that rough stall last night I thanked Jesus that He "became flesh and dwelt among us, and for the promise of his abiding presence still.