That does it, now I've seen everything. It's not enough that our rooms are full to the rafters. Now this Roman senator, Marcus Metellus, has barged in, demanding the best room in the house. Benjamin told him we were full, but the loudmouth doesn't listen. He ordered his servant boy to carry in carpets and tapestries, to the room at the top of the house. I believe he was called Julius. The poor boy looks half starved. And oy, that ragged tunic!
Well, what can we do? When a Roman Senator commands, we must bow and obey. I'm sure our leaders could have handled this census on our own. But no, they must constantly check up on us.
I tell you though, when I saw young Julius cower as Marcus's hand raised to strike him, I stepped in. Yes, I did. Senator or no senator. I received a dark look from Mr. High and Mighty for my impertinence, oh yes I did. But I didn't back down. The poor motherless boy!
Now, Abigail, quick run up and kindly ask Jacob to move his family in with Efren, Ruth and their children. Ach, so crowded they will be! But they will understand. I'm sure they've heard the commotion.
My daughter, Abigail. She is obedient and kind. Such a help to me, though she is only ten. And to have your help now too, Miriam. I cannot thank you enough. Will you make the dough for six more loaves? There are eight in the oven, but we'll need more now that his highness has arrived.
And the stew ... well it will have to stretch. Mmmm ... it is tasty!
To think I didn't even know I had a relative named Miriam until three days ago. Such unexpected times. Two other relatives showed up some weeks past: Joseph from Nazareth and his young wife Mary, who is now heavy with child. She is due any time, poor child. I could not turn them away, and gave them my best guest room, but as more relatives arrived, I've had to move the two of them to make room for nine more. And so, they've ended up in the cleanest corner of the stable. I see I'll have to find another stable corner for young Julius.
Oy! Look at the poor boy, his arms the size of my broom handle. And why does he insist on wearing that ratty cloak about his neck? He keeps tripping on it.
Levi!
Levi! Help Julius carry his load up those stairs, now!
I have no idea where my other sons are. Thankfully, Levi is always hanging about.
Here, Miriam, set aside a bowl of stew and half a loaf for young Julius before we serve his lordship, for I'm quite sure he is not a sharing sort of man.
Now, I'm going to set a pot of water to heat. That young Julius needs a good scrubbing, and I think Levi can do with one less tunic.
*******
Miriam, there you are. Thank you for cleaning up and getting things ready for tomorrow. It will get busy before sunrise.
I tell you, getting young Julius washed up was a chore. In the end, he was glad to be clean. And he thanked me over and over for the tunic. His ratty cloak, on the other hand. Ach, what a fight! He wouldn't part with it. Apparently, it was his father's, given to the boy as the father lay dying. After all, it's a boy's last memory of his father and so I agreed not to throw it on the dung heap. I washed it instead. What a job that was! And do you know, it wasn't as ratty as I first thought. It's drying there, by the fire.
And here is where we will put our bedrolls. Yours, mine, and Abigail's. The last bit of space in the house not occupied by sleeping creatures. And that is some noisy sleeping creature on the top floor, is it not?
What's this? Young Julius, what is it?
Oy, oy! Miriam, get up and put a pot of water to boil. Mary's time has come. Abigail, hand me my birthing kit there, then help Miriam tend the fire. Come, Julius. Show me.
*******
Such a sweet baby boy, Miriam. Something quite special about him. Julius kept to his corner until the baby was swaddled and then he couldn't resist holding him. I tell you, that baby has a hold on young Julius. Do you know what he said to me? "I think he loves me." Bless his heart, the poor motherless boy. When I was done cleaning up, I looked up to see that he had covered Mary with his cloak, fresh and dry from the fire.
Well.
They're all sleeping now, even young--Oy!
What's this? Abigail, go get your father. Tell him there are a bunch of ruffians at the door. Shepherds, I think. What on earth are they doing here? They're going to wake the whole household.
Are we to get no rest tonight?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With these thoughts in mind, I started wondering what it would have been like for the mistress of a house during the time of the census. Busy, crowded, and with little choice but to welcome relatives needing shelter. Seraphina (which, incidentally, means fiery) is so busy hosting and mothering in her loving home that she misses the significance of the birth of Jesus. But poor, orphaned, Gentile Julius does not.
Merry Christmas, all!
Joy
Featured Photo from Pixabay
