A Barn at Christmas

There’s something special about a barn at Christmas. Actually, there’s something pretty special about a barn at any time of the year. I’m sure I’m prejudiced, but I especially love my barn this time of year. It’s an old barn, probably about 125 years old, at least the main part is. It was built by my great great grandfather out of huge hand hewn chestnut logs cut here on the farm. Sometimes I just run my hand over the marks and the notches that someone cut by hand. It’s a marvel to me. When I was a child, the barn was my favorite playground. The loft was usually full of fragrant hay, perfect for the building of forts and secret hiding places. Sometimes there were kittens to play with and it was a perfect place for a rainy afternoon in the summer. I used to also play in the corn and oat cribs, always watchful for snakes, who feasted on the mice that were drawn to the free buffet. I’m sure these areas would not be approved by the health department as safe play spaces for children, but they didn’t seem to do any harm to me! Of course, my very favorite spaces were the stalls where my horses lived when they weren’t being ridden or turned out in the fields. I could spend hours brushing and combing, dreaming of the day I would be a famous rider and own a whole stable of horses to choose from. I realize now I seriously underestimated the amount of time, sweat and money a whole stable of horses takes, and I have settled for just a couple of riding horses and only one or two at a time to show. I haven’t become a famous rider, but I sure have had fun with my horses. I have, for several years, invited friends and neighbors to my barn during the Advent season for a devotional time. We read the Christmas story from Luke, sing a couple of songs and talk a little about what Christmas must have really been like for Mary and Joseph and the tiny newborn baby Jesus. It’s a special time to pause and think of the simple truth of the season, a break from the madness and hurry of today’s holiday season. Sometimes I like to just pause in the middle of my barn chores and enjoy the silence and the history around me at that old barn. The people who built it, the folks who have labored so hard to make a living from the farm, the friends who have played with me there, the animals that have been such a special part of my entire life. I feel very blessed to have grown up on a farm, and especially to have grown up on this particular farm. I love the legend of the animals talking on Christmas Eve. I am told that when my grandmother first moved here back in the twenties, she insisted on going down to the barn at midnight on Christmas Eve to see if it really happened. I never heard whether she heard them or not, but sometimes I think that if I could just have a child’s heart again, I might be able to catch the whispers of the horses, the cattle, the sheep as they remember that special night when God slipped down the back stairs from heaven and laid a baby in a manger. Merry Christmas to you all and may you, like the Wise Men, rejoice with exceeding great joy, during this time of year and all year long.