Within My Walls

Within My Walls

I was—oh, so old. My walls were thin, and between some of my boards were spaces that let in sunlight by day and the cool breezes by
night. My only other source of sunlight was a massive door, held on by thick leather straps.

I stood behind a stately looking inn. For this I was glad. I was embarrassed because of my undignified appearance. I was created for a lowly purpose, for I was a stable.

The time of taxation had arrived. The stately inn was packed with people. All I held were a few cows.

Early this day my master had cleaned my floors and changed my straw. I prepared myself for the rough treatment the cattle always gave me, but to my surprise the cattle were very gentle. They all stood in one corner and ate very little of the straw. By the end of the day I still looked beautiful—for a stable.

Suddenly my door creaked open, letting in the night air, which I was trying so hard to keep out. There stood my master beside a tall, kindly looking man of those times.

“This will be fine, sir, “the stranger was saying, “but we must hurry.

My master bade them good night and left.” The stranger walked to the center of my floor, followed by a small donkey, which carried a woman. The man gently placed her on my fresh, clean straw. She was beautiful, but in great pain.

That night she gave birth to a child. She gave birth to the Son of God within my frail walls.

A star, brighter than all the rest, shone down upon me, upon me and the glorious scene that was there within my walls..

Even though my position in life has been a lowly stable, I have fulfilled the measure of my creation.
—Gary R. Hatch