Twas the night before... well you know

A poem I read during our Christmas day service.

On the night before Christmas and all through the house, wait there was no house, there was Mary a donkey and Joseph entering Bethlehem. Their destination was not full of mirth for Mary's desire was a place to give birth. The inns were all full for a census decreed, a stable was used anyplace in time of need. No stockings, no mantel though plenty of mice were present to witness the birth of the Christ. No sugar plumb fairies dancing but an angle chorus singing declaring the birth to lowly shepherds surrounded by sheep. To them was declared this amazing news, a birth, the Savior was born. The Christ the Messiah the King made flesh and now dwelt among us. The shepherds all stood and sought now to see the truth of the words and the sight they had just seen. So into town and up to the stable they strode and with eager eyes they behold a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. To Mary they retold the events just seen of Angles stars and a light so bright guiding them to this perfect sight. As they returned to their sheep this story this marvel they recounted to any yes all who were about in the new born light. So now you know the truth of that night an event so old that only stories are told. Ancient history say some merely fiction say others. But the shepherds did not return to their sheep with heads hung low now if I might be so bold but with a story that needed to be retold. Now which story will we pick the one of the Christ or old saint Nick.