With Christmas Coming

I keep looking for the real Christmas,
Not the one with Santa going Ho-Ho-Ho at the Mall,
Nor the one with tinsel and snow
making a pretty picture,
nothing more than a
greeting card.

I keep looking for the real Christmas,
with the smell of animals ripe and
old feed nearby;
a manger watched over by even more smelly
shepherds fresh in from
the night-encased fields.

Don't pass off the oh-so-pretty
Christmas crèche on me.
There were no wise men (or kings).
Just crowd-crammed rooms at the local Inn
Where there was no room.
Just Imah and Abba,
Miriam and Yosef,
and
baby Yeshua.

None happened as we see it
No matter how hard we try to preserve
Christmas
or try to keep Christ there.
It was dark until the angels called
the shepherds out of their fear.
Then it was dark again.

But wait. Could THAT story get us to
believe that God is among us?
Could THAT story give us the strength
to go on?
To persevere?
To believe in ourselves and
our souls?

Which story would I rather hear and
celebrate?
Which story pulls me into God, not because it is
filled with facts but rather
because it speaks truth and leads to
a whole new way of thinking?

Imah and Yosef are still there.
Amazed;
In awe of
life born and reborn;
Pondering Yeshua who
they have only just met.

Alone together
in a bare shelter.

Believing in God.

(Inspired after seeing Life of Pi.)