He was born in an obscure village many years ago. There was no fanfare, no celebration by friends and family, just a quiet birth. In fact, there wasn’t even a hospital in which he could be borned. And what was worse yet, there was no room, no hotel, nor even an overnight inn to receive his presence, just an old barn, and less than that.
He was born in a small stable, perhaps not even big enough to house a donkey or two, and maybe a few cows. Hardly what you would call sanitary conditions. Just his mother and father and a few farm animals, perhaps some sheep, and maybe that cow or donkey, maybe even some ducks or chickens, and a barnyard cat to catch the mice. But I doubt that any mice were caught that night because something wonderful was happening. Something like the world had never seen. Something holy was being born that night.
Out in the countryside, under the stars, a group of shepherds were watching over their sheep. Nothing spectacular was going on, at least not in their eyes. When suddenly the night sky lit up like a thousand candles and a host of angels appeared, singing “Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth, peace and good will towards men!”
