My "Nativity Story"

A Little Magic in Bethlehem  

By Karen Mahara 

That cold spring morning, everything changed. The galloping of hooves was their only warning. Roman soldiers with a message.

Joseph left Mary at home, insisting she eat, while he braced himself for the news to follow. Roman soldiers in their village was never a good sign, and when he caught sight of the large number of them—and the official uniform of one in particular—he knew the news would be important; life-changing.

The wrinkled-face official dismounted and strode through the dusty streets until he reached Nazareth’s square. His eyes were cold, his hands certainly calloused like Joseph’s, though what they wielded was far different. Joseph worked with wood and nails; the soldiers swords and shields.

A parchment unfolded, and the words that followed cast a burden upon Joseph’s shoulders, heavier than one of his crosses.

“His Imperial Majesty, Caesar Augustus, Emperor of Rome, decrees for a census to be taken of the entire Roman world. Everyone must report to the town of their birth to be counted.” The man continued on with the time requirements and consequences for failing to do so, but the words fell on deaf ears. Joseph had to pack up his pregnant wife, his shop, and belongings to travel to Bethlehem. He didn’t know how long he’d need to be gone, but the trip alone would take twenty days to get there and back.

Joseph stumbled back to his home and sank into his chair at the table. Mary took one look at his face and ceased her bustling around the kitchen. She joined him, her kind eyes large with worry. “What is it, Joseph? What did they want?”

He ran his hand over hers before answering. “Caesar August has issued a decree that a census be taken. Since I was born in Bethlehem, I must make preparations to leave.” He couldn’t help it. He heaved a heavy sigh and rested his head in his hands.

Mary didn’t answer right away; it was something he loved about her. After a couple clarifying questions, she smiled. “We have time. It will be okay.”

“And if you go into labor on the road or while we’re there?”

“God will provide for us.”

Mary said it so matter-of-fact. Joseph could only blink at her. He had faith; he believed. But not like Mary.

#

There were several families also from Bethlehem, so Joseph arranged to travel together. For eight days, they walked along the rocky terrain, gritting their teeth against the biting wind and aching feet and muscles. As Joseph predicted, the arduous journey jostled her womb, starting some early contractions. What felt like leather belts tightened around her waist, stretching back towards her spine. After a minute, the pressure eased, but with each mile, the pains grew closer together and lasted longer. Bethlehem appeared in the distance, as Mary struggled to breathe during the contractions.

When they crossed through the city gates, Joseph rushed immediately to the nearest inn. They didn’t have time to roam from place to place. He returned after only a few minutes. Shadows hung beneath his eyes. “There’s no room.”

“We knew that would happen. Did you ask about others?”

“There is no room. Anywhere.”

A heavy weight sank in her heart. What would they do? There were other alternatives—Joseph had brought enough coin—but there was no time. Mary squeezed her eyes shut as another contraction rolled over her. A thin sheet of sweat coated her forehead. God. Will. Provide. She chanted the words silently, over and over.

When it passed, Mary opened her eyes. Joseph was gone. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, wanting only to slide off the smelly donkey and collapse in a bed. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she hurriedly wiped them away. She didn’t want Joseph to see her like this, weak and emotional.

It did no good. Her entire body shuddered as sobs wracked her swollen form.

This was how Joseph found her, and he wasn’t alone. A short, lean man stood beside him, dressed in freshly pressed clothes. His long beard was peppered with gray. “It’s not a room,” his husky voice said. “I have no rooms, nor does anyone in town. But I have a safe place for the night.” The man strode away, and Joseph wasted no time in following.

They led Mary and her donkey past the inn and down a stony path around the back. Tufts of grass sprang up amongst the dirt and pebbles. Sloping rock hugged the landscape, and in its large mouth were bales of hay and animals. Mary couldn’t help but smile. Meager conditions, maybe, but it would be warm and comfortable.

The innkeeper chased away a few chickens and nudged a reluctant donkey out of the way, leading the couple to a warm space sheltered from the wind. Lanterns cast a golden glow and warmed the chilly walls and floor. “My wife will send a servant with some food. If you should need anything else, let them know.”

Mary’s heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you, sir.” Then another contraction hit, causing the world around her to grow hazy as she fought to breathe through the pain. When the pain was over, she found they were alone.

“They’re getting closer together,” Joseph said.

She nodded. A manger full of hay sat not far from where she lay, and the animals had vanished, most likely enjoying the fair weather. Joseph put a hand on her forehead, his eyes wide with worry. Mary took it in hers. “It’s going to be okay. People have babies everyday.”

“But we don’t. Not without a midwife. Not in a stable with animals.”

Mary took a long drink from their water canteen. Joseph had a point. But she couldn’t worry about that now. She only had only a short rest before the next contraction.

#

Joseph wanted to believe Mary; he tried to imitate her positive attitude.

It was impossible.

They were in a new city, staying in a stable with animals for companions and hay for a bed. His wife suffered through pain after pain, and there was nothing he could do.

But then something happened; something small yet magical.

A young girl appeared outside, arms full. She handed them warm bread and chunks of cheese. It warmed his stomach and calmed his nerves. Color returned to Mary’s face and strength to her body.

The servant turned to leave. “It’s too busy to send a midwife, but I will have a word with your wife, so she’ll know what to do.”

After a few whispered words, the girl vanished as quickly as she came.

Lord, what do I do?

Whatever Mary asked for, he’d get it. Whatever she needed, he’d find a way to make it happen. But bringing babies into the world—in Bethlehem? God may as well ask him to walk on water.

A thought sliced through his fear, calming him. Even if he knew nothing about babies or labor, Mary did. She’d helped aunts and cousins, Elizabeth, for example. Most importantly, she had faith in God. He’d already done the impossible—created a child in a virgin’s womb. Certainly He could handle delivering that child.

“God will provide,” Mary had said.

Her soft voice cut into his thoughts. “Joseph? It’s time.”

Joseph turned back to Mary. It was time. Oh, God! It’s time. He couldn’t swallow. His heart rammed against his ribs.

Mary took his hands and sank to her knees as if she were praying. And before he knew it, a baby’s cry pierced the silence of the cave. Mary curled on her side into the soft hay, the baby clutched against her chest.

Joseph stared in wonder. This squalling, dark-haired child was the Savior of the World. “Jesus,” Joseph whispered.

A dazzling smile lit Mary’s face. “Our Messiah.”

Joseph rose and removed the swaddling fabric he wore beneath his clothing. He handed it to Mary, and she wrapped the thin gauze around the baby. Jesus grew quiet, his wails fading to soft cooing. He stared up at Mary and Joseph for a moment, eyes open.

Jesus was a miracle—his conception, his delivery, and when he grew, miracles of all shapes and sizes would bless their people.

After nursing him, Mary lay Baby Jesus in the manger. Joseph raked away the soiled hay and spread fresh straw in its stead. He lay their blankets down and drew Mary close. As she fell asleep, he thanked God Mary was right.

God always provided.