A Christmas story

When there’s no room at the inn

And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem (because he was of the house and lineage of David)

To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

—The Book of Luke

Why, of course we would put her in the manger. My husband wanted them to keep going, but I knew better. She was to be delivered right away from her burden, I could tell. They wouldn’t have made it to the next town.

And what, I should let her in here, among these people? I was once a new mother, too, you know. I wouldn’t have wanted to go through birth in a place like this. The word “inn” might sound hospitable to folks in another age, but in our time—well, just look around: Gamblers, ruffians, highwaymen, bandits. That’s who we serve. She was better off in the manger. There she and her husband would at least have some privacy.

Besides, they didn’t look lah-di-dah. They were folks. She seemed happy to have a place to stop. He thanked me and tried to pay. Oh, what my husband might say if he knew I turned down some money!

Out in the manger, it was a quiet night. A silent night. All was calm. All was bright. You should have seen the stars. They were so bright that the shepherds walked around like it was daylight or something. And although it should’ve been cold, somehow it wasn’t.

Oh, I’ve buried the lead: The child was born healthy.

Ten fingers, 10 toes, as they say. Yes, the baby looked fine. Parents looked happy. No doubt the child will be raised right.

There was something unusual about this family. The mother was so gentle, the father so unassuming, the child so perfect. The parents seemed to know a Secret, but one so great they couldn’t tell it yet. Most new mothers are worried silly, and new fathers scared witless. But this couple seemed . . . content? Maybe the word is untroubled. Or undisturbed. Still. Does that make any sense? I hope I’m not boring you.

But the couple was tired, that much I know. All this travel just to pay taxes.

Stranger still, they had company. Some men on camels came bearing gifts. Shepherds said they were led here by a dream. How they knew we had somebody in the manger is anybody’s guess. Talk about the least among these—mere shepherds bothering people trying to sleep in a manger! I told them that manger isn’t an address! But some of the men on camel bought meals, so my husband didn’t protest.

The couple, and their child, eventually left to handle their business. He was a carpenter as I remember, and he’ll probably pass along the trade to his children. And what could be more honorable than that as a profession? Craftsmen seem to be more principled than most. Maybe because of the care they put into their work. And there is something decent about the carpenters that I know around here.

Somebody once said the world begins anew with every newborn. The world seems even newer this evening. This stillness, this evening, this world seems so perfect now.

But then, I’m getting sentimental. Births do that to me. In a couple of thousand years, what difference will it make?

Oh, by the way, it was a boy.

I’d like to see that boy’s smile again. It gave me exceedingly great joy.