In my forays in blogland, I often come across great jewels of wisdom in unexpected places.  For instance, I don’t expect to find great empathy and understanding for our hurts as infertile women in a blog that’s primarily about a young family with four children.  In all honesty, it’s the kind of blog that I generally shy away from when I’m feeling fragile. 

But then I came to this entry, a wonderful commentary on how our expectations in life often don’t live up to our realities by God’s design, how even when we go looking for a room in Bethlehem, we sometimes find ourselves in the stable.

So, I ask you, do you find yourself in a stable? Did you come to the holiday looking for rest, for comfort, for peace, but instead find yourself troubled, cold, and isolated?  I know that many days, that’s exactly where I find myself, complete with scratchy hay in my ears, and quite frankly, a bit of manure on my shoes.

If you read the whole post, and I hope you do, (and believe me, I feel your flinch as you stumbling past the references to childbirth and delivery), I hope you don’t neglect to read the footnote in italics below the body of the post.  This note states that many scholars believe that, although Mary may have given birth in a stable, she probably had female members of her family present with her at such a critical time to assist her.  Many of the mothers who commented on that post commented on the fact that they were comforted by the fact that Mary hadn’t been alone during childbirth.

I’m just comforted by the fact that Mary wasn’t alone in the stable.  And if I allow God to light a lantern in the darkness of my stable, and I look up from the dirt of the stable and around, I can see the faces of the many beautiful women who are the members of my family in Christ.  For no matter what hardships or uncertainties drive me to the stable, I am not in the stable alone.

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