The Journey by Chris Lloyd

I’d like to get hold of the person who decreed that a Census was needed. Why? We know who we are and it’s not like we are trying to hide where we come from. To top it all, we have to go back to where we were born in order to be declared “citizens” of that place. It’s a three-day journey for me and the wife and she’s a bit peaky at the moment; not sure what’s wrong with her. Nightmare it is. Still, we’re all in the same boat so I suppose we’ll have to grin and bear it so we can get on with our lives. Why don’t they do these things when the weather is less cold of a night?

There’s nothing wrong with Bethlehem, (that’s where we are originally from), but we moved for a better life and so that I could be a proper carpenter, you know making nice furniture instead of house bashing all the time; anybody can do that, well not anybody per se but the reality is that they don’t have to have the skills I have. On the other hand, the shekels are good.

Anyway, we set off with our donkey and a few chattels, home comfort items if you like, and started the three-day trek from Jerusalem. It was ok at first but gradually the roads became really busy with camels, donkeys, shepherds and sheep and people shouting. There were even three posh gents looking very regal riding along on their equally posh camels each one appearing to carry a meticulously wrapped parcel. But from our point of view, it was noisy, dusty with nothing much to guide us, although there was a bright star in the east so basically, we followed that as we knew we had to head eastwards.

By this time, we had camped out two nights, the traffic was horrendous and there was dust everywhere. I was beginning to wonder if we would find a hotel in Bethlehem but there must be people going the other way so maybe it would be ok. We didn’t think we’d have to book a room but I had a sneaky feeling that would prove to be a mistake. But never say never, that’s my motto.

Eventually, we walked in to Bethlehem and started to look for some accommodation but after hearing “there’s no room at the inn” for the twentieth time, we were ready to spend yet another night sleeping under the stars. However, someone from the last hotel feeling sorry for the wife, offered us their stable for the night. What could we say, certainly not no, so we thanked them and moved in. It was ok too and with a few sheep, cattle and oxen already settled down and snoring. It was reasonably warm.

I must have dozed off for a while because the next thing I knew, Mary, my wife, was giving birth to a baby boy. To say I was shocked was an understatement and then about thirty minutes later as if on cue, the three posh gents I saw on the way to Bethlehem turned up. They bowed down to our baby and gave him the gifts I saw them carrying on the way. It turned out that they’d given him Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh which was a bit weird to be honest given they didn’t know him or us. Then they called our baby The Messiah, Lord of all. I didn’t get it as we’d called him Jesus. We laid him in one of the hay mangers and made him warm with a few layers of cloth. Then, the Word must have got out because loads of people came with gifts for him and to a man, or woman, they bowed and called him Little Lord Jesus. He wouldn’t have heard them though because he was spark out in the manger.

As I was looking down at our son, I heard some kind of choir singing, they were very good, almost angelic in fact. Mary stirred, held my hand and said, “This is like being in a dream. What on earth, or in heaven, have we started?”

The rest, as they…