Room In the Inn

                                        

I’ve known the story as long as I can remember. Every Christmas Eve I’d hear it again. As a child my family gathered in the living room after a candlelit dinner. Basking in the warmth of family, Christmas lights twinkling, and anticipating opening gifts under the tree, we’d listen as the family patriarch read the second chapter of Luke’s Gospel from the Bible. “And it came to pass in those days…”. Joseph travels with “Mary, his betrothed wife who was with child,” to Bethlehem to be counted in the required census. On the way pregnant Mary goes into labor. Her Son is born, wrapped in swaddling cloth, and laid in a manger because “there was no room for them in the inn".

In my imagination, fueled by Christmas pageants and nativity scenes, I see Joseph frantically knocking on doors while full-term Mary sits on a donkey. Finally a reluctant innkeeper is awakened, comes to the door, and agrees to let them stay in the stable. That night the angels sing and shepherds come, for the Savior is born, bringing “glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” 2000+ years later, lights still twinkle, music fills the air, and followers of the Child come.

In the wee hours of the night I lay in bed pondering my life today, December 18, 2013. Our children have listened to the same Story, heard the same Scripture, adopted the same traditions. However, I wasn’t much thinking about the Story. Instead I was feeling sorry for myself. Thinking of what I’d be missing this year. Home and hearth. Laughter from the kitchen as we make tea time tassies and fudge. Squeals of delight as grandchildren scamper through the house. The Christmas tree we cut down the day after Thanksgiving. I played out different scenarios, mentally trying to finagle a way around circumstances to re-create the Christmas of my dreams. Searching for ways to “make it the same,” a place for family to gather and laugh and love and celebrate and make memories together.

Lee’s been in rehab for double knee replacements. Great! We planned that. He’ll be discharged today. He's doing well. In time for Christmas. Wonderful! What we didn’t plan was icy weather and spewing water pipes at home in our absence. No kitchen right now, and significant damage in the family room. We won’t be “home for the holidays” in the ways I had imagined. Although our homeowner’s insurance is providing accommodations, it’s not the same. Christmas in a motel? Right now we’re in a Residence Inn. We drove up in my Toyota Highlander and were cheerfully greeted by the hospitality team. We didn’t have to beg for a place to stay. Though I’ve been pregnant several times, those times are past. No pressing need for immediate care. Our Inn has nine floors with elevators. Clean rooms. Tastefully decorated. Comfortable. Even a refrigerator and small kitchen. Someone else changes the sheets, washes the towels, empties the garbage. There’s even a nice breakfast buffet. A swimming pool and hot tub. A place we might even dream of being under other circumstances. But it’s Christmas. Time to be home. Time to celebrate. Where will we gather?

As I lay pondering these thoughts a sudden revelation came. There’s room in this Inn! That night long ago, the reason for the season, there was NO ROOM in the Inn! I suspect the travelers on that moonlit night long ago had other plans for welcoming the Child. Plans of which we know nothing. Those plans don’t even get a note in His-Story. For the Child was born that night in a manger, and nothing else mattered. The world’s never been the same.

The Story tells nothing of despair over barnyard accommodations. It tells nothing of failed birthing plans, or plans at all, except the plan to bring peace, joy, and love to a hurting world. It tells nothing of loss and disappointment. It tells nothing of shepherds grumbling about conditions around the manger. It tell nothing of cranky angels singing in the cold night air. Instead, all eyes focus, all ears hear, all hearts worship, the Child.

Where will we gather this Christmas? My plans failed. But I know there's room in the Inn. For some, it’s a street lit night in downtown Portland, or under a bridge in Tillamook, or a refugee camp in Manyplace, Earth, or a tent behind a warehouse, or a cardboard box in places I don’t generally go. For others it’s a cozy home with stockings hung by the chimney with care, or a resort in Hawaii or a cabin at Whistler.  I’m not sure who all may show up. Our children with their children, but who else? Perhaps shepherds and wise ones? Angels? For I now remember in my nighttime musing what matters most—seeking and finding, gathering together, wherever, to celebrate the Child. 

Merry Christmas!

                 "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!"

                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                                    Luke 2:14