I notice barns everywhere now. I pass this icon of a barn weekly on State Road 15 between Goshen and Bristol, IN. It is about one foot high and a foot and a half long, a nice, neat little barn in shiny red and white.
For the season, a wreath and lights were added to the barn, and another ancient icon, the stable where Jesus was born, took its place above the little red barn. They sit at the end of the drive, not of a farm, but of a small house.
Why does this barn beckon me so?
In a barn
In a little town
Many years ago
Christ came down
In human form
His love for us He showed
Have passed since then
And many more to come
His holy birth
Has made us friends
With God, through His dear son
© By M.S.Lowndes
Dwelling place of animals
tamed and hay and oats and grain,
I breathe the smell of warm earthy
bodies and make a dry place plain
in rain, and steaming dung in the cold.
I am a barn, a shelter, and stand
on earth: I live to serve.
Those who serve me work dawn and dusk,
sharing me with passing strangers
and with birth.