I love these two old time images. They remind me of the wonders of being a dairy farmer's granddaughter, all of the joys with none of the work. Grandma had a cat that produced litter after litter of kittens to hold and love. The cows had their calves. Every creature great and small endured our childish love and affection. One sister even looked after the frogs found in and near the water troughs.
The farm was our play land. Its barn was surely near to God's heart because of all of His creatures it cradled. For me it was almost a holy place with its filtered light illuminating dancing dust motes and swallows nesting in its rafters. The milking machine kept rhythm as Grandpa moved quietly about his labors while his grandchildren played. At night it seemed the stars shone brighter over the barn then anywhere else in my universe.
As I write this, I'm struck of how fitting a place the stable was for the birth of our Savior. Our God is never mistaken. The manger was part of His plan.
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