I
t appeared incongruous for an inn to boast of a stable. Stables were usually the province of farmers and shepherds, housing animals of the field and pasture. The more popular inns, however, maintained such stables for the animals of their guests. They were populated with the usual conveyances, camels, donkeys, an occasional ox. Located at the rear of the inn, this stable stood separate from the main building, adjoining it a large sheepfold where shepherds lodged their sheep for the night. The air hung heavy with the usual accouterments of husbandry, smells of animal waste, hay and the body odors of the animals, smells both pleasant and unpleasant. It was a stable. Creatures crowded, both inside and outside. Three camels lay squatting on the ground around the entrance to the stable, their nostrils blowing cloud puffs into the cold evening air. Within, Joseph found a small enclosure, filled it with extra hay, spread robes and blankets on the hay and there Mary, with difficulty, lay herself down.
An hour passed. Then two. The scurrying about outside in the streets had subsided to an occasional inebriated soul who had imbibed too much wine. Dust from the day had settled. Airs grew cooler, a blessing not lost on the birthing young mother whose brow beaded with sweat. People asleep. Inside the stable it was warmer. Not much, but enough. The body heat from the asses and oxen made life slightly more comfortable. An occasional chicken perched here and there with peeping eyes signifying an end to the day’s scratching and clucking. Quiet scurryings of small creatures. She lay sweating and wincing, her chest heaving, her abdomen contracting.
Beyond the stars, from a point somewhere in Eternity, he moved toward earth. The world, life and human history waited. It would never be the same.
