“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”
The question is asked with a knowing smile as the person wonders what parties we might be having or throwing to close out 2007 and welcome 2008. I’m smiling too as I answer, “My husband is working and I have a newsletter to produce.” I’m afraid I’m a rather boring person when it comes to the new year. Though maybe if I get busy with that newsletter, I will see midnight this year…
My family has never been one to celebrate the turning of the year with a big party. For Y2K, we slept out in the backyard in our tents – yes, on December 31st in the snow – and got woken up at midnight by our neighbour’s fireworks. A few years ago, just after I’d started dating my husband, he and I spent the day out in the mountains hiking and were driving home in the evening. I told him my family probably wouldn’t be up when we got there. Much to my surprise, they were playing cards when we finally arrived, and so we joined in the game… which lasted until midnight. But those are the memorable years...
Today, as I ran errands with my husband and we listened to the radio, we heard a lot of talk about the year in review and the best of 2007. It started me thinking about the last year and what it has brought. A year ago, I moved into my own apartment for the first time. I had to work the days between Christmas and New Year’s because I’d just started my job and didn’t have any holidays yet. I got married and went on a honeymoon, and came back pregnant. We finally just finished sending out our thank-you cards and printing wedding pictures. I applied for grad school and did more writing than I’ve done in the past few years. My husband and I went hiking together, visited friends, and attended several weddings and ordinations. We’ve adjusted to married life, started preparing for our first baby, and fallen deeper in love with each other.
Perhaps spending this evening as we are is a better reflection of the past year than attending some huge party. Oh, we’ve had our parties with friends, our good times together, our surprises. But most days are more ordinary – dishes, laundry, work. The usual list of tasks that need to be done. And so tonight, my husband is picking up an extra shift of work to make sure that we have enough money for when the baby comes, and I’m trying to get another newsletter done and into the mail to its readers on time.
2007 was a good year… I’m looking forward to all that 2008 may bring. A happy new year to all of you!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A Good Night
It was the early hours of the morning when the shouting began. I had already rolled over once, trying to settle my aching body for another few hours of sleep before daylight. The quiet and stillness of the inn was a blessed thing after what the day had brought. Until that stillness was broken by the noises outside. Noises that would soon be waking my guests and making them complain.
The floor was cold under my feet as I threw on my robe. I jerked the cord around my waist and fumbled in the dark for my sandals. Where had I dropped them last night? Oh yes, by the door. I pushed my feet in and tied a hasty knot in the laces, then scurried out the door.
The noises had started near the back of the inn, but by the time I got to the gate, the revelers had moved around to the front. I threw open the gate and stepped outside, closing it again behind me to prevent them from disturbing my property. They were drunks, most likely, but they could take their partying elsewhere.
“Men!” I called, as the stench of their robes informed me they were shepherds. Great. Why did they have to choose this night of all nights to come into Bethlehem? Couldn’t they have stayed with their flocks until the census was over?
One of them caught sight of me and in the next minute they had surrounded me, laughing and shouting. They were excited – no, they were jubilant, ecstatic, as happy as any men I’d ever seen. One was shouting in my face, but his breath reeked of garlic, not drink.
“There’s a baby—“
“—in the manger!”
“Angels told us!”
“He’s the savior!”
“Swaddling clothes, they said!”
“Silence!” I thundered, and it fell, sudden and awkward. We stood in the street, looking at each other. They kept grinning and jostling each other.
“One of you tell me what’s going on here,” I said, lowering my voice. “And then I’ll ask you to move on, as you’re disturbing my guests. You.” I pointed to the man who smelled of garlic.
“The angels told us to come. They said we’d find the baby here, in the stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes. They said he was the savior we’ve all been waiting for – the promised Messiah. And it’s true. He’s right there, in the manger. Just a baby, but he’s going to save us.”
Maybe he had just eaten the garlic to cover the smell of the drink, for his words certainly didn’t sound like those of a sober man. I turned to the man next to him. “What angels?” Best to get them to start at the beginning of their story and give all the facts.
“The ones that sang in the sky,” he answered, gesturing up with his hands, and their grins got wider as they all began nodding. “We were just watching our flocks, you know, waiting for the lambs to come. I was about to nod off to sleep when all of a sudden there was this light all around us and angels up in the sky.”
“They were singing!” the first man broke in again, and then they all started singing together, a song that they’d obviously sung a few times already. It did remind me of the noises I’d first heard from my bedroom.
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth!”
I waved my hands to get them to stop. They’d be waking my guests again with that howling. It certainly didn’t sound like an angel’s song to me. “Thanks. So they sang. Now what are you doing here?”
“Oh, they told us to come.” Another man spoke with the simplicity of a child. Just wandering around doing whatever angels told him to. “They said we’d find the baby here and we did.”
“Where?” I asked, somehow hoping I’d heard them wrong. Not in my stable…
“Up there, in the stable.” The man gestured.
So much for my hopes. I could see a lantern still burning in the window of the stable. The man and woman were up there, the ones who had arrived late last night with their pitiful story about finding no room in any inn. Of course not – we were all full with this census going on. And I wouldn’t have had any pity for them, except that the woman was huge with child. It wasn’t my fault that there were so many travelers here for the census or that they’d arrived in town so late they couldn’t find a room. But that woman looked the way my wife did just before our son was born, and I couldn’t leave her outside. So I told them they could have the stable. It was all I had left. And now this.
“Go see for yourself,” the man urged me. “The baby is there, just like the angels said. He’s the Messiah we’ve been promised. The One God is sending us. We’re spreading the news. To think that we were alive to see this moment!” He pounded his hand on my back, his garlic breath nearly overwhelming me.
“Yes, thanks,” I said, stepping back. “All right then, go on, but please, don’t shout. My guests are trying to sleep.”
“They should be worshipping the Messiah!” the man called, and with that, they went down the street. Not walking, mind you, but jumping, dancing, frolicking. Kicking up their heels like the lambs that they were watching. At least they waited to get around the corner to start shouting again, though I could still hear their faint “hallelujahs!” and shouts that “the Messiah has come!”
I shook my head and turned toward the stable. The lantern glowed faintly there. I hated to disturb the couple, but if there were going to be more visitors like this to my stable, then they had to move elsewhere.
All was still at the stable when I got there and stepped inside. The animals were sleeping or chewing their cud and barely paid me any attention. In the biggest stall, where I’d spread fresh, clean hay for the man and the woman, the lantern’s glow shed a soft light over them. The woman was rocking a baby and singing softly; beside her sat one of my mangers, with a small blanket covering the straw inside. The man was resting on the hay nearby, his eyes on the woman and a gentle smile parting his beard.
“Um, excuse me,” I murmured, suddenly hesitant to disturb them.
The man scrambled to his feet. “Is anything wrong?”
“Oh, uh, no. I just stepped up to check on how you were doing and, well, if you needed anything.”
“No, we are quite comfortable, thank you. Our son arrived a few hours ago.” He cast a beaming smile over his shoulder at the small baby. The woman raised her head to look at me.
“Would you like to see him?” she asked, her voice soft as she lifted the baby slightly and drew the blanket back from his face. I stammered a yes and stepped closer, leaning down. What would a Messiah look like?
The baby was sleeping, one tiny fist pressed against his cheek, yet there seemed to be a soft glow about his face. Just the lantern light, probably, and yet something held my gaze on that babe’s face. He was as tiny as my son when he was born, but there was something different about this baby. Something that made it seem like it was a good thing he was here and the shepherds had a reason to be dancing about the town shouting out the good news.
I drew back and shook myself, glancing at the man. “There were, uh, some visitors here a short while ago.”
“Yes.” The man was smiling. “The angels told the shepherds of Jesus’ birth.” There was wonder on his face and on the woman’s. Then a frown creased his face. “Was there a problem? I heard them shouting a bit as they left.”
“It’s okay.” I waved my hand. “They’ve moved on.”
I looked at the woman again and saw the exhaustion that lined her face. I remembered my wife’s travail when her time had come. This woman needed rest, not visitors. “Let me know if there is anything else you need. And I’ll try to make sure there are no more disturbances tonight.”
The woman ducked her head and the man murmured their thanks. I glanced at the babe one last time, still sleeping in her arms, and then I backed out of the stable. As I walked down the narrow trail from the stable to the inn, I could hear the shepherds shouting their good news somewhere on the other side of town. A star high above seemed to be shining brighter than usual, lighting the path for me. It was a good night.
The floor was cold under my feet as I threw on my robe. I jerked the cord around my waist and fumbled in the dark for my sandals. Where had I dropped them last night? Oh yes, by the door. I pushed my feet in and tied a hasty knot in the laces, then scurried out the door.
The noises had started near the back of the inn, but by the time I got to the gate, the revelers had moved around to the front. I threw open the gate and stepped outside, closing it again behind me to prevent them from disturbing my property. They were drunks, most likely, but they could take their partying elsewhere.
“Men!” I called, as the stench of their robes informed me they were shepherds. Great. Why did they have to choose this night of all nights to come into Bethlehem? Couldn’t they have stayed with their flocks until the census was over?
One of them caught sight of me and in the next minute they had surrounded me, laughing and shouting. They were excited – no, they were jubilant, ecstatic, as happy as any men I’d ever seen. One was shouting in my face, but his breath reeked of garlic, not drink.
“There’s a baby—“
“—in the manger!”
“Angels told us!”
“He’s the savior!”
“Swaddling clothes, they said!”
“Silence!” I thundered, and it fell, sudden and awkward. We stood in the street, looking at each other. They kept grinning and jostling each other.
“One of you tell me what’s going on here,” I said, lowering my voice. “And then I’ll ask you to move on, as you’re disturbing my guests. You.” I pointed to the man who smelled of garlic.
“The angels told us to come. They said we’d find the baby here, in the stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes. They said he was the savior we’ve all been waiting for – the promised Messiah. And it’s true. He’s right there, in the manger. Just a baby, but he’s going to save us.”
Maybe he had just eaten the garlic to cover the smell of the drink, for his words certainly didn’t sound like those of a sober man. I turned to the man next to him. “What angels?” Best to get them to start at the beginning of their story and give all the facts.
“The ones that sang in the sky,” he answered, gesturing up with his hands, and their grins got wider as they all began nodding. “We were just watching our flocks, you know, waiting for the lambs to come. I was about to nod off to sleep when all of a sudden there was this light all around us and angels up in the sky.”
“They were singing!” the first man broke in again, and then they all started singing together, a song that they’d obviously sung a few times already. It did remind me of the noises I’d first heard from my bedroom.
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth!”
I waved my hands to get them to stop. They’d be waking my guests again with that howling. It certainly didn’t sound like an angel’s song to me. “Thanks. So they sang. Now what are you doing here?”
“Oh, they told us to come.” Another man spoke with the simplicity of a child. Just wandering around doing whatever angels told him to. “They said we’d find the baby here and we did.”
“Where?” I asked, somehow hoping I’d heard them wrong. Not in my stable…
“Up there, in the stable.” The man gestured.
So much for my hopes. I could see a lantern still burning in the window of the stable. The man and woman were up there, the ones who had arrived late last night with their pitiful story about finding no room in any inn. Of course not – we were all full with this census going on. And I wouldn’t have had any pity for them, except that the woman was huge with child. It wasn’t my fault that there were so many travelers here for the census or that they’d arrived in town so late they couldn’t find a room. But that woman looked the way my wife did just before our son was born, and I couldn’t leave her outside. So I told them they could have the stable. It was all I had left. And now this.
“Go see for yourself,” the man urged me. “The baby is there, just like the angels said. He’s the Messiah we’ve been promised. The One God is sending us. We’re spreading the news. To think that we were alive to see this moment!” He pounded his hand on my back, his garlic breath nearly overwhelming me.
“Yes, thanks,” I said, stepping back. “All right then, go on, but please, don’t shout. My guests are trying to sleep.”
“They should be worshipping the Messiah!” the man called, and with that, they went down the street. Not walking, mind you, but jumping, dancing, frolicking. Kicking up their heels like the lambs that they were watching. At least they waited to get around the corner to start shouting again, though I could still hear their faint “hallelujahs!” and shouts that “the Messiah has come!”
I shook my head and turned toward the stable. The lantern glowed faintly there. I hated to disturb the couple, but if there were going to be more visitors like this to my stable, then they had to move elsewhere.
All was still at the stable when I got there and stepped inside. The animals were sleeping or chewing their cud and barely paid me any attention. In the biggest stall, where I’d spread fresh, clean hay for the man and the woman, the lantern’s glow shed a soft light over them. The woman was rocking a baby and singing softly; beside her sat one of my mangers, with a small blanket covering the straw inside. The man was resting on the hay nearby, his eyes on the woman and a gentle smile parting his beard.
“Um, excuse me,” I murmured, suddenly hesitant to disturb them.
The man scrambled to his feet. “Is anything wrong?”
“Oh, uh, no. I just stepped up to check on how you were doing and, well, if you needed anything.”
“No, we are quite comfortable, thank you. Our son arrived a few hours ago.” He cast a beaming smile over his shoulder at the small baby. The woman raised her head to look at me.
“Would you like to see him?” she asked, her voice soft as she lifted the baby slightly and drew the blanket back from his face. I stammered a yes and stepped closer, leaning down. What would a Messiah look like?
The baby was sleeping, one tiny fist pressed against his cheek, yet there seemed to be a soft glow about his face. Just the lantern light, probably, and yet something held my gaze on that babe’s face. He was as tiny as my son when he was born, but there was something different about this baby. Something that made it seem like it was a good thing he was here and the shepherds had a reason to be dancing about the town shouting out the good news.
I drew back and shook myself, glancing at the man. “There were, uh, some visitors here a short while ago.”
“Yes.” The man was smiling. “The angels told the shepherds of Jesus’ birth.” There was wonder on his face and on the woman’s. Then a frown creased his face. “Was there a problem? I heard them shouting a bit as they left.”
“It’s okay.” I waved my hand. “They’ve moved on.”
I looked at the woman again and saw the exhaustion that lined her face. I remembered my wife’s travail when her time had come. This woman needed rest, not visitors. “Let me know if there is anything else you need. And I’ll try to make sure there are no more disturbances tonight.”
The woman ducked her head and the man murmured their thanks. I glanced at the babe one last time, still sleeping in her arms, and then I backed out of the stable. As I walked down the narrow trail from the stable to the inn, I could hear the shepherds shouting their good news somewhere on the other side of town. A star high above seemed to be shining brighter than usual, lighting the path for me. It was a good night.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Christmas Shopping and Giving
I remember Mom taking my brothers and I Christmas shopping at Toys ‘R Us when we were kids. We each had a few bucks with which to find something for the others. She somehow managed to herd three kids through the store and help us each to find that “something” without the other two knowing what we’d gotten them. Back then, a little toy car or truck would make my brothers bounce around the Christmas tree and keep them busy for the next several months. Back then, it was fun to plan their presents.
I remember other years when that excitement of giving was lost. Not so many years ago, I found myself sitting at home only a week or so before Christmas, depressed and stressed out over what to give my family. I’d found a gift for one of my brothers, but it cost me much less than what I’d bought for my other brother, so I felt like I had to get him something more to make the gifts equal. And that was after much agonizing about what to get both of them in the first place, because a little toy truck wasn’t good enough anymore. They wanted power tools or big toys way beyond my budget, and they both had jobs so that they could buy most things they wanted themselves anyways. What was left for a sister to get them?
I’ve come to realize that giving is about the gift – the thought, not the price tag. Many of the gifts I’ve received have been small things that meant a lot. Maybe the value of gifts like that is in knowing that the person cares enough about you to know what you would want. They didn’t just toss out a $20 or a $50 for something to throw under the Christmas tree so that they could have covered their duty. And so I’ve tried to find gifts that show I was thinking about someone. It’s harder to shop that way. But it’s more fun.
Participating in the Secret Santa at work over the last two years has taught me a little bit about gift giving. Each year, we draw the name of a co-worker and then, for the week before Christmas, we secretly leave a little present on their desk each day. Five little presents. For someone I work with but barely know. Last year, I noticed that the person whose name I drew had several plants and small quilts around her office, so I got her related things. Her secretary told me over the week how delighted she was with what I was giving her. This year, an email sent via another co-worker got me an answer to some questions about the person’s interests. I spent a few dollars on some small things that will still be surprises but fit with her hobbies and interests. I felt like that little girl back at Toys ‘R Us again, excited to be giving something that – even if it’s small – I know she will appreciate.
I remember other years when that excitement of giving was lost. Not so many years ago, I found myself sitting at home only a week or so before Christmas, depressed and stressed out over what to give my family. I’d found a gift for one of my brothers, but it cost me much less than what I’d bought for my other brother, so I felt like I had to get him something more to make the gifts equal. And that was after much agonizing about what to get both of them in the first place, because a little toy truck wasn’t good enough anymore. They wanted power tools or big toys way beyond my budget, and they both had jobs so that they could buy most things they wanted themselves anyways. What was left for a sister to get them?
I’ve come to realize that giving is about the gift – the thought, not the price tag. Many of the gifts I’ve received have been small things that meant a lot. Maybe the value of gifts like that is in knowing that the person cares enough about you to know what you would want. They didn’t just toss out a $20 or a $50 for something to throw under the Christmas tree so that they could have covered their duty. And so I’ve tried to find gifts that show I was thinking about someone. It’s harder to shop that way. But it’s more fun.
Participating in the Secret Santa at work over the last two years has taught me a little bit about gift giving. Each year, we draw the name of a co-worker and then, for the week before Christmas, we secretly leave a little present on their desk each day. Five little presents. For someone I work with but barely know. Last year, I noticed that the person whose name I drew had several plants and small quilts around her office, so I got her related things. Her secretary told me over the week how delighted she was with what I was giving her. This year, an email sent via another co-worker got me an answer to some questions about the person’s interests. I spent a few dollars on some small things that will still be surprises but fit with her hobbies and interests. I felt like that little girl back at Toys ‘R Us again, excited to be giving something that – even if it’s small – I know she will appreciate.
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Innkeeper's Son
A bloodcurdling yell from behind him was all the warning that Judah got to dodge sideways and whirl around. Josiah landed in the dusty street next to him with a whump, then picked himself up from his hands and feet and gave his friend an impish grin.
“Hey. We’re going out to the hills to play bandits. Wanna come?”
Judah’s face fell. “Can’t. Gotta help Ma clean the rooms.”
Josiah scowled. “Man, can’t you ever get out of the chores?”
“Not with this stupid census on.” Judah kicked at a rock in the street. “Caesar oughta be the one having to put up all these people traveling back to their hometowns just to tell him who they are.”
“Well, if you get done early, come find us, all right?” Josiah scampered down the street without waiting for an answer. Three other boys joined him at the corner and with a whoop they disappeared from sight. Judah stared wistfully in their direction. There was a time he’d been proud of being an innkeeper’s son, a time when he’d been the one with all the free time bugging the other boys to come out and play. But not anymore.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the rock again as he kept walking. Every inn that he passed was just as full as his parents’. He even heard several innkeepers turning travelers away. They’d be making their way to his parents’ inn before long, and his mother would be scrambling to find rooms for them. He’d probably be sleeping in the kitchen again, like the last several nights. The only room in the house that his parents hadn’t rented out was their own, and they were now sharing it with his younger brothers.
By the time he’d delivered his mother’s message to the butcher and gotten back to the inn, another string of donkeys stood outside the gate and a couple camels lounged in the yard. His father haggled with the donkey owner over the price of the room. Judah slipped around to the kitchen door and found his mother yelling at the cook over not having any fresh bread to give to the travelers. Apparently the camel owners were quite wealthy and paying for top-notch service.
“Judah!” she cried. “Where have you been, dawdling with your friends? Our guests are arriving and you haven’t got the rooms clean. Get after it!”
“Yes, Ma,” he said, slinking out of the kitchen again and wondering where his younger brothers were. He soon found them already at work, feeding animals or running errands for the travelers. By the time they finished their chores and were allowed to sit down in a corner of the kitchen for a bowl of soup, Judah was exhausted.
“There’s no room left here for tonight,” his mother announced, sweeping into the kitchen. “Silas and Caleb, you’ll be sleeping in my room. Judah, you can sleep in the kitchen. Just don’t leave your bedding in the way like you did this morning.”
He would have groaned if he wasn’t too busy eating his soup. The kitchen was the worst place to sleep, as the cook was the first person up in the morning and there was always someone stumbling in at midnight to ask for a cup of tea or a bit of bread.
“Judah, check the stable before you go to bed, please,” his mother finished, and turned to talk to the cook about the next day’s menu. Judah slurped the last of his soup out of his bowl and pushed himself to his feet. After dropping the bowl on the stack of dirty dishes and hoping that Caleb and Silas would be assigned to dish duty tonight, he headed for the stable behind the inn.
The low, dark building was quiet after the din of the inn. Judah’s feet rustled through the straw while he checked on the animals there, but all were contentedly eating their hay. He got one of the camels another bucket of water and pushed his mother’s cow back into its own stall. It liked to wander the stable and wasn’t any happier with the census crowd than Judah was.
He was making another trip to the well when he saw the couple standing at the door. The woman was bent over on the donkey, her shawl hiding her face, her arms wrapped around her distended stomach. Judah wondered that the donkey could carry all her weight. The man’s shoulders were slumped as he raised his fist to the gate.
“We’re full,” Judah said before the knock fell.
Both of them turned and look at him. In the gathering darkness, he could barely see their faces, but he didn’t need any light to feel the exhaustion in their look.
“Every inn is,” the man said with a sigh. “Can’t you put us anywhere? My wife is pregnant and about to give birth.”
Judah looked at the woman, his eyes widening. She couldn’t do that on a donkey!
“You’ve tried—“
“Yes,” the man said. “We’ve been to every inn in town. Please. We don’t need much space. Just a little room somewhere… the donkey can stay outside. But my wife…”
A shifting lantern in an upstairs window sent a gentle ray of light across the woman’s face. Her expression was gentle as she looked at Judah, pleading. Then she twisted her face in pain, yet made no sound. Judah’s mind raced as the woman struggled with the contraction. If a baby was coming, they needed a place now. But there wasn’t a space anywhere. Except for—
“The stable,” he blurted out, and then felt his face grow hot. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s not a fit place for a lady like you, but it’s quiet and—“
“It’ll work,” she murmured as the contraction passed and her face returned to normal.
“But Mary—“ the man protested.
“There’s dry straw,” Judah offered. “And it’s warm. I’ll move the animals. I can get you water and blankets and such. And no one will bother you there.”
“All right,” the man agreed. “Please show us.”
Judah led them around the inn and up the path to the stable. Another contraction had seized Mary when they got there, and they waited by her donkey for it to pass. When it did, her husband helped her from the donkey. Judah ducked into the stable, leading the way to the back. There they kept the hay, but the area was half-empty because they had been feeding so many animals.
Judah heaped up some hay in the corner and the man spread his cloak over it, then helped Mary lay down. Seeing they were comfortable, Judah dashed inside to get them some food and warm water. Then he took care of their donkey, tying the little animal in another corner and giving it a heaping pile of hay.
“Thank you,” Mary whispered, her face glowing in the light of the lantern that Judah had hung over their heads.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, looking from her to her husband. As Mary’s face crunched up with pain again, the man shook his head.
“No, thank you. You have done much. May God bless you, my son.”
Judah nodded and went into the inn. Sometime in the middle of the night, when the inn had finally grown quiet and everyone was asleep, he heard the piercing wail of a newborn baby. He rolled over, feeling that somehow the census wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Hey. We’re going out to the hills to play bandits. Wanna come?”
Judah’s face fell. “Can’t. Gotta help Ma clean the rooms.”
Josiah scowled. “Man, can’t you ever get out of the chores?”
“Not with this stupid census on.” Judah kicked at a rock in the street. “Caesar oughta be the one having to put up all these people traveling back to their hometowns just to tell him who they are.”
“Well, if you get done early, come find us, all right?” Josiah scampered down the street without waiting for an answer. Three other boys joined him at the corner and with a whoop they disappeared from sight. Judah stared wistfully in their direction. There was a time he’d been proud of being an innkeeper’s son, a time when he’d been the one with all the free time bugging the other boys to come out and play. But not anymore.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the rock again as he kept walking. Every inn that he passed was just as full as his parents’. He even heard several innkeepers turning travelers away. They’d be making their way to his parents’ inn before long, and his mother would be scrambling to find rooms for them. He’d probably be sleeping in the kitchen again, like the last several nights. The only room in the house that his parents hadn’t rented out was their own, and they were now sharing it with his younger brothers.
By the time he’d delivered his mother’s message to the butcher and gotten back to the inn, another string of donkeys stood outside the gate and a couple camels lounged in the yard. His father haggled with the donkey owner over the price of the room. Judah slipped around to the kitchen door and found his mother yelling at the cook over not having any fresh bread to give to the travelers. Apparently the camel owners were quite wealthy and paying for top-notch service.
“Judah!” she cried. “Where have you been, dawdling with your friends? Our guests are arriving and you haven’t got the rooms clean. Get after it!”
“Yes, Ma,” he said, slinking out of the kitchen again and wondering where his younger brothers were. He soon found them already at work, feeding animals or running errands for the travelers. By the time they finished their chores and were allowed to sit down in a corner of the kitchen for a bowl of soup, Judah was exhausted.
“There’s no room left here for tonight,” his mother announced, sweeping into the kitchen. “Silas and Caleb, you’ll be sleeping in my room. Judah, you can sleep in the kitchen. Just don’t leave your bedding in the way like you did this morning.”
He would have groaned if he wasn’t too busy eating his soup. The kitchen was the worst place to sleep, as the cook was the first person up in the morning and there was always someone stumbling in at midnight to ask for a cup of tea or a bit of bread.
“Judah, check the stable before you go to bed, please,” his mother finished, and turned to talk to the cook about the next day’s menu. Judah slurped the last of his soup out of his bowl and pushed himself to his feet. After dropping the bowl on the stack of dirty dishes and hoping that Caleb and Silas would be assigned to dish duty tonight, he headed for the stable behind the inn.
The low, dark building was quiet after the din of the inn. Judah’s feet rustled through the straw while he checked on the animals there, but all were contentedly eating their hay. He got one of the camels another bucket of water and pushed his mother’s cow back into its own stall. It liked to wander the stable and wasn’t any happier with the census crowd than Judah was.
He was making another trip to the well when he saw the couple standing at the door. The woman was bent over on the donkey, her shawl hiding her face, her arms wrapped around her distended stomach. Judah wondered that the donkey could carry all her weight. The man’s shoulders were slumped as he raised his fist to the gate.
“We’re full,” Judah said before the knock fell.
Both of them turned and look at him. In the gathering darkness, he could barely see their faces, but he didn’t need any light to feel the exhaustion in their look.
“Every inn is,” the man said with a sigh. “Can’t you put us anywhere? My wife is pregnant and about to give birth.”
Judah looked at the woman, his eyes widening. She couldn’t do that on a donkey!
“You’ve tried—“
“Yes,” the man said. “We’ve been to every inn in town. Please. We don’t need much space. Just a little room somewhere… the donkey can stay outside. But my wife…”
A shifting lantern in an upstairs window sent a gentle ray of light across the woman’s face. Her expression was gentle as she looked at Judah, pleading. Then she twisted her face in pain, yet made no sound. Judah’s mind raced as the woman struggled with the contraction. If a baby was coming, they needed a place now. But there wasn’t a space anywhere. Except for—
“The stable,” he blurted out, and then felt his face grow hot. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s not a fit place for a lady like you, but it’s quiet and—“
“It’ll work,” she murmured as the contraction passed and her face returned to normal.
“But Mary—“ the man protested.
“There’s dry straw,” Judah offered. “And it’s warm. I’ll move the animals. I can get you water and blankets and such. And no one will bother you there.”
“All right,” the man agreed. “Please show us.”
Judah led them around the inn and up the path to the stable. Another contraction had seized Mary when they got there, and they waited by her donkey for it to pass. When it did, her husband helped her from the donkey. Judah ducked into the stable, leading the way to the back. There they kept the hay, but the area was half-empty because they had been feeding so many animals.
Judah heaped up some hay in the corner and the man spread his cloak over it, then helped Mary lay down. Seeing they were comfortable, Judah dashed inside to get them some food and warm water. Then he took care of their donkey, tying the little animal in another corner and giving it a heaping pile of hay.
“Thank you,” Mary whispered, her face glowing in the light of the lantern that Judah had hung over their heads.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, looking from her to her husband. As Mary’s face crunched up with pain again, the man shook his head.
“No, thank you. You have done much. May God bless you, my son.”
Judah nodded and went into the inn. Sometime in the middle of the night, when the inn had finally grown quiet and everyone was asleep, he heard the piercing wail of a newborn baby. He rolled over, feeling that somehow the census wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Musings on Mary
Sorry for my absence here lately... I was down with the flu for a couple of days. Today I'm blogging on Mary over at Inscribe Writers' Online.
Monday, December 3, 2007
What is Christmas?
The office looks a little different this Monday morning. Many of us spent Friday afternoon decorating our cubicles for Christmas. One group of cubicles have become gingerbread houses and another cubicle is lit with brightly coloured lights. A branch decorating challenge has added a spirit of competition to the spirit of Christmas, and most people have done something with their office space.
One of my co-workers has decorated her cubicle to be Gingerbread Manor, complete with fresh gingerbread cookies to nibble on. Another co-worker called her cubicle Poinsettia Point, with poinsettia wrapping paper, poinsettia garlands, and a few poinsettia Christmas balls.
One of the editors sent around an email just before all the decorating began, asking for words in response to the question, “What is Christmas?” He cut out all the words and stuck them randomly on bright red paper outside his cubicle. The words include family, love, friends, caroling, apple cider, stockings, food, baby, charities, popcorn, saviour, St. Nicholas, skiing.
Christmas to me is about the first Christmas, celebrated so many years ago in a stable, and so my cubicle is Bethlehem Boulevard. I’ve been through Christmases in the past where I haven’t felt like celebrating much, and I keep coming back to the reason for the season. I put up some Nativity scenes and stuck Nativity artwork all over my office. It’s such a simple story, yet a story that we keep celebrating thousands of years later.
So what is Christmas to you?
One of my co-workers has decorated her cubicle to be Gingerbread Manor, complete with fresh gingerbread cookies to nibble on. Another co-worker called her cubicle Poinsettia Point, with poinsettia wrapping paper, poinsettia garlands, and a few poinsettia Christmas balls.
One of the editors sent around an email just before all the decorating began, asking for words in response to the question, “What is Christmas?” He cut out all the words and stuck them randomly on bright red paper outside his cubicle. The words include family, love, friends, caroling, apple cider, stockings, food, baby, charities, popcorn, saviour, St. Nicholas, skiing.
Christmas to me is about the first Christmas, celebrated so many years ago in a stable, and so my cubicle is Bethlehem Boulevard. I’ve been through Christmases in the past where I haven’t felt like celebrating much, and I keep coming back to the reason for the season. I put up some Nativity scenes and stuck Nativity artwork all over my office. It’s such a simple story, yet a story that we keep celebrating thousands of years later.
So what is Christmas to you?
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