(From Advent Longings, copyright 1997.)
“Soon–please, Father, soon,” she pants, shifting her weight on the blanket-draped straw, trying to outwait the pains. This wave over, she lies back, her breathing heavier now than the beasts’, hulking in the gloomy corners.
At least it’s quiet here, she thinks, grateful for relief from the bustling, crowded street…the noise has faded with the end of day, and is more muffled here through the sturdy stable walls. Joseph did his best, gathering blankets, linens, a clay lamp and oil–though it cost them all the little store of coin they had. A servant kindly brought them bread and wine. It will be their last meal before…he comes. Bread stays their hunger, and wine dims her pain a bit, so she can sleep.