Living in Season: When our kitchen becomes a stable

After we have lit our luminaries that line the sidewalk to our house, and everyone is in a simple costume (we need a Mary, a Joseph, two innkeepers, and a donkey), we begin to play. Our play is simple. Mary and Joseph and the donkey approach each door in the house, and at each door, they knock, and at each door, an innkeeper says the same thing, "I am sorry, we have no room for you here tonight." But when they arrive at the kitchen door, they hear something different, "Oh, I am sorry, we do not have room in the inn, but there is room in the stable for you." And our kitchen becomes the stable.

I like this idea. Our kitchen becomes the stable. The place to welcome others, those who have traveled long and hard, those who find no place anywhere except here, a place of hospitality and openness. A place of rest, a place of nourishment, a shelter. I hope it is such a place for others who visit, but I also hope it is that place for each five of us, day after day, year after year.

I also like that the stable is a place of low standing, a place for animals, because it links hospitality and shelter with creation. It is an ordinary place with lots of muck, so no one expects it to be a sacred place, but the surprise (and gift) is that it is holy. The simple surprise that God is in those ordinary places is something worth acting out each year. I get to remember the sacredness of space and the holiness of our actions. I already know what it is like to say, "sorry, no room," so I welcome the chance to practice making room for others.

Christmas Eve reminds me that our house is a sacred place. Our house holds the possibilty of sheltering, of offering hospitality, and practicing compassion and love. It reminds me that I can find the holy in our house, especially in our kitchen. Tonight I am hoping that my heart learns something from the open kitchen door.

Hoping for us all lots of play to help us enter the flow of love, openness, and compassion. And hoping we experience the holiness of hospitality, in simple ways, and in your own way, tonight.

Peace,
Nicki