Christmas. A time when lights gleam through chilly night air, and a hot cup of cocoa paired with carols can soften even the hardest of hearts. A time when the moon glows off the frosted ground at night and the stars sparkle in children’s eyes as they await the magical day of the year when everyone is jolly and full of the spirit of giving.
Christmas. A time of noise and chaos. A time where the stress of keeping track of every family member, for gifts, food, and space to stay can become overwhelming. A time when the money is tight, and the lines are long, and everyone wishes they could just get by to the rest of the year.
Christmas. A time when the homeless are reminded that the world still cares, even if it is for just a month or two. A time when a child receives a present for the first time in years. A time when memories of love are really made.
Christmas. A time when the streets get colder, and the wish for family gets stronger. A time when the empty spaces seem deeper, and the holes needing filling get bigger. A time when love is appreciated all the more.
Christmas. A time of imperfection, lost in a desire to be perfect. To buy the perfect gift, to serve the perfect meal. A time when we may give, but it may only be to ease guilt, or improve self worth. A time when we forget. The reasons are long gone. So why remember? Why remember something so small as a tiny babe, born on a forgotten day to an unmarried teenage mother?
Christmas. Love. Scandal. Noise.
A fourteen-year-old girl, nine months pregnant with her first child travels with her soon-to-be husband to a town called Bethlehem. Unfortunately, so many others are traveling there now as well, and as they have arrived at a very late hour, every space, including the servants’ quarters, is filled with guests. I watch from my window as the young man pleads with the innkeeper to find space. His face is tired and dusty, and his shoes worn through the soles, but it is not for himself that he pleads. It is for her.
“I have no rooms!” the innkeeper’s voice raises in anguish. “Even if I did, I would not house a slut and you! You should be ashamed of yourself. Stone her, and cleanse your families honor.” He slams the door. The man, Joseph, turns, and takes the girl’s hand, patting it lovingly.
“You know this is not easy for me either,” he says, as he looks up into her face, and gently brushes away a tear from her eyelashes. “Mary, you know I love you, and I would do anything for you.” Mary looks down into his large brown eyes, and smiles.
“I know.”
“Mary? Joseph?” Joseph straightens himself, stepping quickly away from the donkey.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Martha. My husband is the innkeeper. I’m afraid he was a bit harsh with you. He has had a hard night. We do have somewhere you can stay, but let me warn you, it will not at all be comfortable,” I say, with some resign.
“I will not stay unless your husband approves,” Joseph states. “This is his property, and I will not intrude without his consent.” I nod. “Thank you for your offer though.”
“Let me get him. Don’t leave.”
I push back through the door, back into the stuffy main room. A man, probably drunk, stumbles in front of me, yelling, like all the rest of the men, about the cursed census that is messing up all of their lives. I grab his shoulders, steadying him, and push him toward a chair. My husband is in the corner, talking to one of my maids. I see her giggle, and blush, and then glance in my direction. Her eyes grow, and she rushes off into the kitchen. Pretending to not have seen this exchange, I approach my husband.
“I have a proposal for you,” I state, almost in a cold manner.
“What?” he slurs back. He is drunk as well.
“The pregnant woman and her husband. Let them stay in our stable.”
“The whore and her betrothed?” he spits. “Why would I let them stay anywhere near my inn. They will only dirty its walls.”
I lower my voice and speak nearer to his ear. “You’re one to talk about dirtying the place up. Just because they are my maids doesn’t make it any more clean.”
My voice sobers him up a bit, and he finally harrumphs consent. I push my way back out to Mary and Joseph.
“My husband is sorry for his earlier behavior, and is sorry for our lack of space.” I can see in Mary’s questioning eyes that she doesn’t believe me, but there isn’t much more I can do. “He would like to extend our stable to you as a place to stay. We have just had fresh hay laid, so although it may not be comfortable, it will at least be clean.”
Joseph takes my hand, and kisses it. “Thank you very much. We are both grateful for yours and your husband’s compassion.”
Smiling at him, I reach for a torch above the inn door, and lead them to our stable. Mary has now dismounted their donkey, and is wobbling slightly with the weight of the baby. I pull the large piece of wood out of the latches on the door, and Joseph helps me to heave the large doors open. Looking around, everything seems, as much as possible, useable. I use my torch to light a few lanterns inside, and watch the light flicker off of the crisp yellow straw. A cow lows at the sight of the flame, so I back slowly out. I can hear the chickens clucking, and the horses pawing at this unexpected disturbance. The hogs munch happily on scraps that the maid has brought out, and the rest of the animals either look on in curiosity, or just altogether ignore the situation.
No, it’s not right that they should be housed here, but this is all we have. And a woman as pregnant as she is shouldn’t be without a place to rest.
Mary sits wearily on the hay, and looks to me. “Thank you.”
And at that, I close the door. There are some linens in the corner they can use for cover, and I shall bring them food in the morning. Yes, I shall make them something to make up for this poor housing arrangement…
Christmas. Unexpected.
