Alone

Far from family and friends, they settled in for the night. It was dirty, and raucously noisy. As the sun sank behind the low hills that surrounded them, a chill settled in the air. There were no blankets aside from those they had managed to bring. The few coins he carried amounted to nearly all they had in the world. There was barely enough for a room at an inn, if only they could have found one. The long trip had nearly exhausted the provisions she had carefully packed. Even now, her stomach clenched and growled its complaint. Shivering, she bit her lip, stifling the overwhelming sense of panic that rose within her.

Their world had been turned upside down. There was the pregnancy that, under any other circumstances, would have been unwanted. The shameful reactions it produced still colored her cheeks. The marriage had been hurried and quiet, without the days of pomp and celebration her friends had enjoyed at their own weddings. Now, forced to travel by a federal mandate, they had slipped away to this village, so many miles from home. Each hour had increased her agony and she had a growing awareness that the time was drawing near. Here. In this dirty, cold place, so many miles from friends and family.

They should have been here by her side–her mother, the midwife, the neighbors. This place ought to have been full of women fussing and scurrying around her. They knew what to do. They knew how to care for her, care for the child. Yet she lay in the dark of this unknown place, far from their help and support.

The agony of isolation pressed on her. Fear choked her breath as she struggled through the long hours of the night, laboring alone with her new husband. It was all almost too much.

Then, sometime near dawn, it was finished. His shrill cry split the air. Carefully, she instructed her husband—this man, who had been mother and midwife and all that she had required—to wrap him tightly in the clothes she had carried with her. His hands shook as he handed the tiny bundle wound in white fabric into her waiting arms.

She held the baby close, his sweet face pink in the dim light of the lantern. He rooted, smacking his lips. She smiled and drew him in to nurse. Strong hands brushed the hair from her face. She looked up to meet his eyes.

Together, they huddled in the straw. Alone in this moment of life or death. This moment that held them far from the embrace of those they loved. This moment of fear, of unknown, of poverty and hunger and cold and physical pain. This moment when all was wrong with the world, and yet all was being made right.

This was the first Christmas.

Perhaps more than ever this year, we will understand.