A Festive Story

IRAN UP the stairs of the inn which belonged to my family, carrying a large pile of laundry. My father was shouting at me to hurry up as they needed me in the kitchen. We had never been so busy. The weather had turned very cold and little flakes of snow were twirling onto the ground making the dirt road sparkle. People wrapped in blankets, trying to keep warm in the bitter cold wind, were continually knocking at the door requesting rooms. In the past few weeks an order had gone out from Caesar that there was to be a census of all the people living under Roman rule.

It had caused chaos because people had to travel to their birth town to be registered. People were moving all over. Many had very long distances to go. Soldiers had moved into the town to monitor the registrations.

I was fortunate that I had been born in Bethlehem. It was here that my family ran one of the few hostelries in the town. Bethlehem was a small town and usually it was very quiet and peaceful. The order from Caesar had brought many people here who hadn’t been in Bethlehem since their birth.

I worked hard all day. We opened up the attic and made up beds from straw and lay blankets on the floor for others. My mother and sisters made out a long list and hurried to the market to buy more food as we were running short. I was the eldest in my family and at the age of 15 was almost considered fully grown. I loved helping my father working with the needs of guests. Normally it was very easy going but not so in the past week.

By the end of the day we had managed to accommodate everyone who had looked for a place to stay. We were full to the rafters but everyone had a bed and some warm food.

My father sat down for the first time that day and put his arm around me.

‘Well done,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘We did it.’

Just as he was speaking there was a soft knock on the door. He looked at me,

‘Oh no,’ he groaned. ‘We have no more room.’

He got up slowly and moved towards the door. There was another knock, this time more insistent. My father opened the door. The snow was coming down heavily now and everything had a coat of white. There was a man and a woman standing in the doorway shivering with the cold. The woman was obviously in distress and was heavily pregnant.

‘Please,’ begged the man, ‘we need a place to stay. My wife is not well. We have money.’

The man shoved some coins into my dad’s hand.

‘No,’ my father said, ‘I don’t need your money. I have no room. The house is full to the roof, but if you want to go into the shed where the cattle are, there is dry straw and it is warm.’

The man nodded and thanked him. He put his arm around the woman and they moved slowly towards the shed.

We closed the door and my father looked at me.

‘Take them some food and water.’ I quickly went to the kitchen and prepared some food and poured some water into a jug. I ran to the shed and opened the door. There was the woman in the throes of labour and the man was desperately trying to make her comfortable.

The animals were standing around with their warm breath turning to steam as the cool air came in.

I quickly closed the door behind me. The man nodded his thanks. I asked him did they need anything else. He just smiled and said quietly that they had everything they needed.

I ran quickly back to the house. Dawn was already breaking. It had been a long night.

My father sighed.

‘Are they all right?’ he asked.

I nodded and sat down. I was mulling over in my mind what had just happened. There had been such an air of peacefulness in the shed. Even the animals seemed to feel it. I decided to go back to see if the woman was all right. I opened the front door and was amazed to see the yard full of people. They looked like shepherds and they were queuing up to go into the shed. I went to the door of the shed and I could see the woman sitting up with the baby sleeping beside her.

One of the shepherds turned to me and said, ‘Isn’t it a wonderful day? Our Saviour Christ the Lord has been born. What a great day!’

‘SALLY, WAKE UP. It’s Christmas morning.’ My mother was standing at my bedroom door, smiling broadly. ‘Happy Christmas, Love. Just look at all presents Santa brought you.’

I stretched myself and swung my legs out of my cosy warm bed. I wrapped myself in my fluffy dressing gown and shoved my feet into my furry slippers. Christmas was my favourite time of year. I loved the food, the smells and even the weather. I quickly made my way down the stairs and went into the sitting room.

The floor was covered with brightly wrapped presents. The Christmas tree was sparkling with lights and decorations. My brother was already there excitedly examining the different packages.

I went and sat in the bay window and looked out at the cold frosty winter scene. I thought of that strange dream I had. It had seemed so real. Imagine being born in a shed in this sort of weather.

Then I thought of all the people, especially children, who don’t have a warm comfortable home this Christmas and I mentally said a prayer that they can all be well taken care of, even if they don’t have their own home yet.