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Loading...by Julie Anderson
Grantsville
I stood in the doorway
On a cold December night
Listening as they explained
The seriousness of their plight.
But they were few of many
Passing through Bethlehem.
Yet something here was different
As I watched the two of them.
Perched upon a donkey,
No carriage for her ride,
She whispered in earnest
To the man standing at her side.
His face was determined and
Hands gentle in his care.
You could see how much he loved her
As she sat precariously there.
This young woman
So far along with child
Turned her gaze upon me;
Her voice was soft and mild.
Did we have a place for them?
Anywhere would do.
She could go no farther.
She would not make it through.
My heart was touched
By her soft and gentle plea.
Though my husband frowned,
I motioned them to me.
We did not have a room,
But a stable round the back.
It was warm and protected,
Though comfort it did lack.
Would this place be enough
For a shelter on this night?
Could she rest comfortably
To leave at morning’s light?
She smiled with relief and gratitude
As they followed where I led
To a humble, lowly stable
Where they would make their bed.
I awoke to a day much brighter
In a world full of toil and strife.
For the part I played that Christmas Eve;
I am the innkeeper’s wife.
