Since it "Tis the Season to be jolly" and to remember our Savior, I have written a short Christmas story to share with all who happen to stumble across my blog. :-)

Merry Christmas!
Lydia

Mirian : A Tale of Christmas

Mirian slunk away into the corner of the room. The hearth's blaze was a vivacious red, sending out a golden hue into the place. Her father's Inn was crowded to capacity with travelers. Most were weary and dusty, their sandals leaving a trail of grime across the room. Some were laughing softly, others whispered. She stared at one traveler who stood a foot taller than the rest of the crowd. His hair hung just above his ears in greasy locks, resembling a mess of knotted fish nets. He wore a dark brown cloak across his shoulders and stood patiently as her bustling father prepared his room.

She turned her gaze away and held the water jug in her hands closer to her body. She was supposed to be giving the travelers water from the earthen vessel, but the sight of so many people made her want to hide. She did not like crowds; they made her nervous.

"Daughter!" her father roared, his beet red face showing his impatience. Mirian stepped out of the corner, her hands trembling as she held the jug and walked over to where her father was. He would be furious with her for dawdling. When she reached his side, he was busy talking to a troubled looking man at the doorway. From his expression, Mirian knew he was bitterly disappointed. Perhaps her father would forget about her delay while talking to the tired stranger.

"No more room!!" her father exclaimed in exasperation, as he threw up his hands in turmoil to illustrate his point, "We are full, try the one down the street."

"There is no lodging there either," the man said quietly, more to himself than to the busy Innkeeper. "I would not keep asking you Sir, but my wife... She is expecting very soon."

Mirian listened intently, shifting the dark colored jug onto her other hip, letting it rest there for the moment. The man's face reflected a honest spirit and sturdiness. Mirian glanced beyond the man's shoulder to see a young woman, roughly her own age and definitely large with child. Mirian could only imagine the young woman's misery as she stood outside in the cold. Sympathy filled her.

Her father sighed, then shook his head one more time, and shut the thick wooden door in the couple's faces. Mirian’s heart wrenched at the sight. Since Caesar’s order of taxation, travelers had flooded to Bethlehem in overwhelming numbers. All night long her father had been turning away the hordes of people knocking on the Inn door. Mirian did not know why, but she impulsively reached forth her free hand and took hold of the doors' metal ring and pulled it open. Her father looked shocked, and a bit angry, but for once, Mirian did not fear her father's quick temperament.

The door's light revealed darkness, and the figures of the couple heading down the road. Mirian thrust the jug at her father, and ran out into the night after them, quickly covering the few feet between her and the strangers. The man heard her footsteps and stopped in his tracks. The donkey, that the young woman sat on, obediently slowed his trot and stood by his master. Mirian 's sandaled feet felt the chilly night air and the sandy grit of the road.

She approached them and softly asked, "Is a stable good enough?"

The man looked a bit puzzled, so Mirian swallowed hard and repeated her offer, "You could stay in my father's stable." She could hardly believe that she was talking to people she had never met. Words were scarce and difficult for her--especially with strangers.

"Mary?" the man asked, lifting his eyes up to meet the gentle brown ones of the weary woman's.

"It will be fine Joseph. I can't go on...much longer."

"Are you sure? We could..."

Mary shook her head, dark hair spilling out from under her hooded green robe. Joseph's face showed his torn desires, but he turned his gaze back to Mirian and gave a small nod and a smile. "Thank-you," he said firmly, although his eyes revealed his exhaustion. Mirian only smiled back and pointed in the direction of the stable, carved out from the rocky cave in the back of her father’s property. "It isn't too far," she explained, noting the relief on the couple's faces when the words escaped her lips. "God be with you," Mirian whispered almost inaudibly, as Mary gave her a soft smile in return.

Joseph nudged the donkey's reigns as he headed off in the direction Mirian had pointed. Mary's body jostled along with the jarring trot of the animal that was loaded with belongings that could not be left behind. Mirian raced back to the Inn door, where her father waited. She hesitated to lift her eyes to his, fearing she would see displeasure. He stepped aside to let her in, then shut out the night with a slam to the door. Mirian timidly looked up at him, her momentary courage gone and replaced with silence. He just stared back down at her, not saying a word. He handed her back the jug she had thrust at him earlier, and said gruffly, "The guests need water. Hurry along now."

He turned away, leaving Mirian in shock. She had at least expected to be humiliated in front of the guests, as her father was wont to do, or feel the small rebuke of his backhand. She dared not risk anything further, and immediately went to her duties. Later, when the guests had all retired, Mirian lay awake on her bed, her breathing strange to her own ears. The young couple was still on her mind. She wondered if they were cold.

She threw off her covers, and slipped on her sandals. She quickly grabbed her extra blankets, and wrapped another robe around her shoulders. Stealthily, she crept out of the Inn, careful not to awaken the guests sleeping near the hearth. The night was bright with jeweled gleams as her feet followed the path to the stable. She entered into the stony entrance strewn with dried strands of hay. She stopped near the first stall, and peered over it. She heard voices. Then, her eyes adjusted to the quiet dark of the barn and she could see that a small child was placed in the manger--a shameful excuse of a bed for any newborn baby. She crept closer, but carefully stayed out of view, although she did not know why. Now she could see even clearer. The voices came from the corner of the barn, where Mary and Joseph were talking to some shepherds, who where excitedly whispering about angels, and that they had been told that the Christ-child was here.

The oldest shepherd lifted his hands in awe as he repeated the words of the angel, "For unto you is born this day... a Savior, which is Christ the Lord!"

Mirian felt numb with the realization of what the man had said. She looked over at the infant in the feeding trough. The Messiah had come, and she had seen Him! The bundle of blankets she had brought had momentarily lost their urgency. She laid the blankets down on the ground for Mary to find later. Perhaps they would warm the small child. In a way, her small intervention this night had given the Christ a place to stay, but yet she sensed that this Child was to bring her much more... for He had come to bring light to the world, a gift greater than any. She felt a greatness fill the worn stable, for the glory of the Savior was here. She fell to her knees, her body trembling--not with fear but with a strange peace. She felt overwhelmed. For she was in the presence of the King.