No Room In The Inn
A cold and fallen race—A world that would receive its King in a barn with animals instead of the royalty due. No doubt we have all been stricken with a case of Christmas time blues of Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick. Thus, we miss the true meaning of this special time of year.
When Mary arrived in labor, I would guess, it was not at the local Holiday Inn. Yet, all the rooms in the Inn were full. She had to be put up in a less than clean place to birth her baby. I can only imagine—it stunk! I don’t know about Mary but I know when I was pregnant, every smell was heightened and repulsed me. So I can only conceive this to be a less than desirable place to give birth.
I have heard this story—Christ’s birth, many times. But have I become desensitized to the glory of its meaning? If so, can I conceive Him in my heart every day?
“Though Christ a thousand times…” (Angelus Silesius)
Is there room in your Inn?
Merry Christmas
Beautifully Awkward
Her Broken wing 
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