The Christmas of 2006 we were homeless. We didn’t have keys. Not to a car, not to a home. We’d flown halfway around the world, leaving behind a ministry we toiled over. Much, particularly in our hearts, lay in ruins.
Some friends owned Sabine Creek Ranch, and on their grounds stood a barn. A tiny apartment was tucked inside a horse and cow barn, flanked by a red caboose and hundreds of acres of Texas pasturelands. We’d never been there before, so we followed directions at night, making plenty of wrong turns.
When we found the place, we drove a borrowed car over the cattle guard toward what would be our home for a month.
String lights illuminated a small porch, a window and a door in the corner of an aluminum-sided barn. We hefted large pieces of luggage to the apartment. I cannot tell you how bone-tired I was. I hoped to drop my bags, crawl into bed, and cry myself to sleep.
But when we opened the door, Love welcomed us.
The place, usually completely unfurnished in the winter, had been decked out with just the right amount of beds, couches and tables. The pantry burst at the seams. We had dishes and garbage cans, and cups and forks and food. But even more, we had a Christmas tree.
Friends had hijacked the place, decorating it for Christmas. Cookies preened on the table.
I will never, ever forget that Christmas. We had so little. Even our relationships with each other felt raw and frayed. We felt the painful burden of failure after leaving France’s shores as “going home” missionaries. But we were loved, so terribly and wonderfully loved.
Christmas felt right there, in a barn. We heard the nickering of horses, the meowing of kittens, the clop of hooves against the barn floor. Chickens and goats and cows served as a holy object lesson of the incarnation.
Although we were warm and clothed, we understood more keenly the Savior’s homelessness, how He left the splendor of heaven for the sodden earth. We experienced barnyard life alongside him, without much to call our own except our Heavenly Father and our tired, yet sweet family.
Jesus was enough, that Christmas. And He will always be enough.
Mary, I am a christian from Whittier Iowa…let’s say a born again Quakerfor 45 years, an acquaintance of Joyce Cook …Thank you for being faithful in France, and Service there. The Word of God will not come back void…. A few years ago God gave me dreams for hours one night of everyone , and of all sorts of people in France being born again …and I do mean all sorts. I would try to remember every French word and phrase I could in between dreams and then more dreams…I was very impressed at the Lord’s work ! God bless you !
I love that dream! So grateful for God’s good work overseas.
Dear Mary
Festive greetings .
I m deeply touched by your story, I have a story to share. Which address do I send it to.
You can message me on instagram.
Mary, I am a christian from Whittier Iowa…let’s say a born again Quakerfor 45 years, an acquaintance of Joyce Cook …Thank you for being faithful in France, and Service there. The Word of God will not come back void…. A few years ago God gave me dreams for hours one night of everyone , and of all sorts of people in France being born again …and I do mean all sorts. I would try to remember every French word and phrase I could in between dreams and then more dreams…I was very impressed at the Lord’s work ! God bless you !
Beautiful story!! Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas!
That’s an amazing story! And how lovely to spend Christmas in a barn! Like God invited you to his home while you had no place to stay… Beautiful
Yes, I agree!
Thank you for capturing your experience in a story to share with us.
You are so welcome!