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Road to Bethlehem
The open-backed pickup truck swerved and bounced
over the slick, uneven pavement, mercilessly jostling the passengers seated in the
back. One of Mary's hands held tight to the side of the truck-bed with a
death grip, fingers numb in the icy wind. Her other hand rested on her swollen
belly, trying to will peace and comfort to her unborn as she tried to keep
curses for travels woes from her mind - in vain.
Joe looked up across the truck-bed from her. His
thin coat wasn't keeping the chill from his bones; it didn't help that the
zipper was long since broken. The wind tousled his hair as he reached across
and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze over her womb. "Sorry about the
car, Mary. Maybe we'll find someone to help fix 'er in the next town."
Mary bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes; damn
these hormones! She wanted to rage about the car, the fact that they couldn't
afford to get it fixed sooner, the fact that her whole life really sucked right
now. Damn it! She was only 17! She should be making plans for the prom, hanging
out with her friends after school, and celebrating the holdiay with family. Not
this... Not alone...
But she wasn't alone. She had Joe.
Joe wasn't the father of her child; a boy her own
age was. But the moment she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a
rock. Worse, he tarred her reputation - both in school and online. Her friends
all told her to get an abortion, but she couldn't. Something inside her soul
treasured life too much to kill something. There WAS life inside her; she felt
it move, felt the child roll over, knew when it slept. She didn't even know if
it was to be a boy or girl. There were no visits to the doctor since the first
trimester; there was no insurance to pay for it. Clinics asked too many
questions...
Her parents tossed her out soon after the boy
dumped her. They called her a slut, a whore. And a lot worse. She went to the
local shelter; it was OK the first few days. Then she drew the eyes of some men
there. They assumed that if she was already pregnant, it didn't matter; she
couldn't conceive twice. And if she was in that position, she must be an
"easy girl." She wasn't, but they didn't take "No!" for an
answer...
She pushed those memories roughly aside. She had
Joe now.
She looked at Joe, studying his features as he
watched the winding road ahead. He was older than her, in his late twenties.
She was fond of him and found herself fascinated by him.
After the shelter, Mary had wandered from place to
place around Philadelphia, looking for a safe place to rest at night and
collecting cans from the garbage during the day to earn money for food - a task
that grew increasingly difficult as her pregnancy swelled. While she was still
living "on the streets" she ran into Joe, who was in town on some
business. He offered to take her in and let her stay in his spare bedroom - no
strings attached, no questions asked.
And he meant that. He didn't have much himself,
just a two-bedroom apartment north of Philadelphia. He cleaned out the second
room which was originally used as a improv workshop. He was a woodworker by
trade. During the day, he worked as a carpenter with the Allentown union,
traveling all over the area on a wide range of construction jobs. When he had
some time, though, he loved whittling wood into the most remarkable figurines.
Some he would sell through friends at the local flea market, but most were
gifts for friends and family. Mary enjoyed the room. It was warm, safe... and
now the scent of sawdust and wood shavings brought her comfort.
Another hard bump sent pain shooting up Mary's
spine. Damn this road! A shouted apology came from the overcrowded cab of the
pickup truck. There were already three people squeezed across the bench seat;
the truck owner, his pregnant wife and their small son in a car seat. Thus Mary
and Joe had to ride in the back.
Given their age differences, he made no advances
on Mary. She was someone in need and he was able to help - somewhat. He had
little in savings. His income provided food, clothing, heat and paid the bills,
but the car was old and temperamental. While he had health insurance, he could
not offer any to Mary. The state would not extend Medicaid unless she divulged
her personal information; Mary was adamant that she didn't want to answer all
those questions - again! So, despite all his pleadings, there was no doctor to
see for the sake of her child and herself. He borrowed several books from the
library and they poured over the information in them for hours - together.
"We're here," Joe breathed as he pointed
to a sign that read, "Welcome to Bethlehem." Darkness had fallen on
the ride and Mary looked through the plumes of exhales as they entered the
town. It was decorated for the holiday with many lights and greenery. Cars were
piled with gifts and people and there was activity everywhere. This was a good
sign.
They tried station after gas station, but there
wasn't an available mechanic to be found. It was Christmas Eve after all;
everyone had gone home to family. At the last station, the truck owner shuffled
his feet as he stood near Joe. "Look. I know it ain't much, but you folks
can come over to our place. We haven't much, and are filled up with a houseful
of guest ourselves. But we have this huge barn out back. There's a kerosene
heater out there for the horses and cattle. Our guests will be willing to spare
a couple of cots, and it will be quiet - and private. We'll make sure you are
warm and well fed." He nodded in Mary's direction, and added more quietly,
"She needs to stop for the night. We can't run around looking for hotels
at this hour in this weather. We've got a snowstorm coming from the west and we
both know all the hotels will be full on Christmas Eve..."
Numb with cold and the weight of the decision; Joe
nodded silently.
"Alrighty then," the man punctuated the
statement with a strong rap to the top of the cab's roof, "Let's go
home."
Dinner was a busy, noisy crowded sensation. The
man's family was large and there was a gaggle of siblings, their children, as
well as their parents. Fights between bickering cousins were blocked by
teenager's earbuds as they lost themselves either texting or online. Adults
traded stories and recipes, laughter and tears. Many hands helped in preparing,
serving and cleaning up the dinner. There was a whole separate table set up for
the kids in the other room, and yet some of the diners had to take their plates
over to the living room to find seating there. It was truly a full house.
Before dessert was even served, Mary was exhausted
and desperately in need of some quiet. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. While the
chill wore off from her fingers and toes, her fingers still held a puffyness
that she frowned about. Her middle ACHED. As much as she was grateful for the
hospitality, she wanted AWAY from this loud, large, noisy family.
Joe caught the look in her eyes and spoke quietly
with their host. He nodded to his wife and she ran upstairs to gather the extra
blankets and down-filled quilts as he led them out to the barn. The man's
breath plumed in the air as the falling snow hissed around them. "We're
setting you folks up in the manger. We normally open up the loft to folks, but
in your condition, miss, you ought not go climbing up ladders."
"The MANGER!" Mary responded aghast.
"Is that some kind of joke. I know it's Christmas Eve and all, mister, but
that's a pretty bad joke."
The man paused mid-step, initially taken aback by
her vehement response, blinking owlishly. But only for a moment, then he
grinned as understanding dawned. He laughed easily, clearly taking it as though
it were a joke on himself. "Oh. Er. No. I think you misunderstand. It's
not what you think, miss."
He opened the smaller side door for them and let
them enter into the barn. The scents of animals - cows and horses, fresh hay,
kerosene and manure - greeted them as they entered. The man snapped the light-switch beside the door and fluorescent lights overhead glowed to life. The
kerosene heater on the well-swept rocky outcropping - well away from the hay -
did indeed keep the place warm despite the snowstorm outside.
The man led the guests past a few stalls to an over-sized alcove. There was thick beams of wood floor to ceiling on three
sides; the forth side opened wide to the walkway they were on. It was both
quite deep and wide, roughly the size of two generously sized stalls. The floor
was covered thick with hay, at least a foot deep, deeper in the corners.
"This is our manger. It's where the cows drop
their calves and the mares drop their foals. Many folks think of the Nativity
scene when they hear the word "manger." They think of a feeding
trough. It's not, its a place for birthing. A place where new life begins!"
At that moment his wife came bustling in with some
towels and scented guest soap in her arms. Behind her many of the household
guests brought the cots, blankets, a folding table and other items that may
make them comfortable. Even a small black and white TV with rabbit ear antenna
was dragged out. Mary raised a brow at that antediluvian entertainment, much to
the chagrin of Joe. He remembered his grandmother had something like that.
After the family saw them settled, they returned
to the house to continue their revelries. Joe passed Mary a plate with a slice
of apple pie and a warm mug of apple cider. "They seem like nice
folks."
"Yeah." Mary said, too tired to hold up
her end of the conversation. Still famished despite the fatigue, she popped a
piece of pie into her mouth. Then the first contraction hit. *NO!*
Joe noted her panicked look and immediately
dropped to her side, "What's wrong?"
"It's probably nothing."
"No. That was something. Damn. If that car
didn't break down we would be home by now. Why did we have to head out today!
The ride out here was probably too much for you..."
"Damn it, Joe! I said it's ---" Then her
water broke, spreading across the bedspread and down her pants legs. She got up
to head the toilet, thinking half-awake that her bladder suddenly gave way, but
as she stood another contraction hit. She sank to her cot with a panicked look
in Joe's direction. "Joe... I... I think it's time."
He took her hand with one of his, while he tried
to dial 911 on his cell phone with the other. She reached for the phone. "No! No
hospital! I can't afford it! No insurance! I don't want questions! I ... I
can't go through all that again! Please..."
Torn with indecision, Joe got up and pulled on his
coat. "I'm at least going to notify the family. We have to have some
help." In a few moments, he was back with the wife and her sister in tow.
The sister immediately went to work - all
business. "Now listen Mary, not only am I an EMT, I'm a midwife. We're not
going to force you to go to the hospital - though I strongly suggest that you
do." She paused to make sure that sunk in; Mary would not budge on her
decision. "Then you need to listen to everything I tell you to do; I'll do
my best to make sure you both get through this process. Now first we're going
to work on your breathing; you'll need to get that down and under control very
soon..."
The night was long and filled with the babble of
voices and cries of pain. Cows lowed and horses whinnied in response; they knew
instinctively the sounds of childbirth and the labor of love that it was. It
was a strange place to deliver a baby, but in a place where other new life also
began -- it seemed to be the most fitting place of all.
In the afternoon, Joe sat down beside Mary's cot.
She was holding her newborn son up to her breast to feed him, reveling in the
newness of it all. The feel of the milk flowing from her, the ache in her
middle and birth canal, the rippling of the womb as it started to shrink, the
soft warm weight in her arms, the scent of a newborn child - her child. It was
all here. It was all real.
Joe kissed her on her forehead and quietly asked,
"What will you name him?"
"I... I don't know."
"Well, he needs a name. He can't be called
'the baby' when he reaches school or he'll be bullied the rest of his
life."
Mary chuckled gently, "I know. I just don't
know what to name him. My mind is completely blank. I'm so ... tired .. but a
peaceful tired. Y'know what I mean."
Joe stifled a yawn and nodded; it was a long
night. "Can I make a suggestion?"
Mary looked up and met his eyes. "Sure, but I
can't guarantee I'll use it."
"Deal." Joe looked away shyly and
shuffled his feet and legs in the hay, settling himself more comfortably beside
her cot. "My great-grandfather had an old name that ... well, it fits this
kid's situation. They called him "Manny" but that was an shortening
of his real name."
"Which was?"
"Emmanuel."
Mary watched Joe silently until he looked up at
her again. He was serious. He wasn't making a joke out of the situation. Mary
looked away and thought quietly about it.
"It means 'God is with us.'" Joe added.
"I just thought after all we've been through, after all you've been
through, things still turned out OK. I found you in the city. There was enough
money so we can both get by. Even when the car broke down, good people found
us. They gave us a ride, helped us out, even gave us a place to stay when we
had no where else to go. Even in your stubbornness of not going to the hospital
- like you should have - somehow, just SOMEhow, we ended up with a midwife to
help you through the delivery. There was even all the stuff you needed for a
newborn HERE, because the wife is expecting too. You can't PLAN all this, even
if you tried. God IS with us."
"Emmanuel..." Mary said softly, trying
the name out as she gazed down at the child suckling at her breast.
The babe opened his eyes at that moment, looked up
into Mary's, and smiled a beautiful smile. A trickle of milk dribbled out of
his toothless grin.
Mary dabbed it with the corner of a feeding cloth
the wife had given her. "Emmanuel."
The baby burbled happily.
Mary smiled with tears welling in her eyes. She
looked up at Joe joyously, "I think he likes it. I really think he likes
the name. We gotta use it, if he likes it. Not many kids get a say in how
they're named. Right?"
Joe just nodded wordlessly and hugged Mary's
shoulders.
"Emmanuel." Mary said again, turning to
her babe, "God is with us - through it all."
****************************************************~ ESA
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