She hears the voices outside as she lies within.
Straw is the mattress…
a single lamp the light…
and she wants to get up…calm her husband…gentle his spirit.
Because outside the cave she can hear his heavy steps.
She doesn’t see from inside…
doesn’t have the convenience of caring to see…
the pain is intense, the baby is coming…
and she knows the argument outside is for nothing.
“There is room. I saw more people entering. You are inviting more people in!”
“Not I sir.” whispers the woman he speaks to…
“It is not my inn, sir, not my station.”
And she shuffles her feet, not wanting to look eye to eye…
And every time he adjusts to see her face, she averts her gaze.
His voice is raised, but broken…raised not in anger so much as desperation…
“Can’t you see time is moving quickly…soon it will be too late…
this child, he can’t begin his life in a cave…
Do you know what it’s like in there?”
The woman nods, but unseen because Joseph’s eyes are to the ground…
Broken as much as his words, weary, pummeled to the ground by circumstance…
“The smell…the dampness…the chill…
…can’t you see we need help? Make room! Do something please!”
And these words spill over from the woman, unintended, like too much water in a cup…
“The people coming in are from Jericho…”
Joseph begins to understand something he doesn’t want to believe can be true.
And a child speaks briefly, not much…
just five words from the shadows…
he is the woman’s son…
five words with teeth like a shark.
“Nothing good comes from Nazareth.”
“Nathaniel!” the woman turns and shouts…
and the boy recedes, head bowed.
But his words end it all…and Joseph knows there is no reason to argue further…
He is humbled…he is…humiliated…
he has no chance to be seen as the others.
There is room in this inn…
but no room for him.
It’s a barrier high as noon sun, and as frigid and hard as ice…
no reason to be denied, but considered undeserving…
different, and suspect because of difference…
no looking deeper, no understanding…
some allowed in the circle, some will be summarily excluded.
Some are meant for the inn…
some…
for a cave.
And there can be no more argument…
and there is bowing and leaving…
and apologies upon the slowly backward exit…
and as Mary knew from the start what Joseph did not…the argument was for nothing.
He breathes as he paces back and forth…
adjusts his robes, bites his lip…
a man brimming with emotion, must settle it all down…
and deliver the news to his child bride.
He enters the cave, like a boy who suddenly remembers he forgot it was pajama day at school.
Before he can speak came this…
drenched in sweat, unable to move, barely able to utter the words…
“It’s…alright.” and Mary nods her head quickly and unevenly.
And the words come out in broken pieces…
not the time for complete sentences…
eyes blinking hard, and darting around, yet seeking his…
“Cave…sheep…mess…
Joseph?”
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Very insightful fiction here, Craig. And, I thought wryly, where did you get such deep insight? I thought I knew, and followed to your other blog, and yes, there it was: the source of deeper understanding. Not coming the way we’d like it, but yes, yes.
God bless you especially this Christmas. And though that may seem out of sync with what sounds like a very lonely state, it isn’t. I remember as my most meaningful Christmas the one I had to spend all alone, with my world all broken apart. Truly. Not how I would have chosen but yes, yes, good, very good. I spent that Christmas in the private company of its central Figure! I pray that for you.
it seems that fiction writers do that – they insert themselves into the story – and just disguise it with different characters, and different settings. I sure understand Joseph a little more this year than ever. And Christmas alone with Laska the Love Kitty – and God – that won’t be so bad, I don’t think I’ll be lonely – I’m just a little hurt right now – and by little, I mean extremely – but it’s ok. God is good, I’m not alone – I’m never alone. Thank you Sylvia, and God bless you, and Merry Christmas!
I love the telling of Mary’s story. I thought about this today. Your telling would have left mine pale. Thanks.
it started as a flash of inspiration last week – and then a little bit of life to add flesh to the bones this week – and what I wrote – I don’t think it was really me – it’s what I’ve learned through HIM. Anyway, thank you very much, and Merry Christmas.
thank you so much for giving me insight into joseph’s thoughts… i’ve been craving that this year. wondering what he felt and wishing the Bible told us more about him. merriest of christmases, craig!
I’m a guy – and someone who knows what the “no entrance allowed” sign looks like. If you’ve ever written a “Mary” Christmas story – I’d love to read it. I can’t imagine someone writing one that I’d gain as much from. Thank you Emily, God bless you, Merry Christmas.
I’ve never thought about how desperate Joseph must have felt. This brought me there. I especially love, “Some are meant for the inn…
some…
for a cave.
And there can be no more argument…
and there is bowing and leaving…”
I know how he felt, nothing going right, nothing working, so little making sense, and church tradition holds that he didn’t to see Our Lord’s ministry – maybe not much longer then after that time Jesus got lost in Jerusalem as a boy. But everything would be different without Joseph. And as you left – I leave, bowing, saying thank you. Merry Christmas.
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