This is the second part of a two part story I wrote for my family last Christmas. Part 1 is here.

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“Kill her? Father, no! It’s all my fault for not getting the medicine.”

“Joshua, you said yourself there is no more medicine in town. It’s not you I blame. If anyone, I blame the Romans.” Father’s voice grew soft when he said, “I hate killing my sheep, perhaps more than you do. But if it will save her some pain, then that’s what I will have to do. But I pray the Lord protect this one and heal her.”

After a few moments, I asked, “Father, may I go looking for Gimel tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ll leave Simeon here and go with you and we will try to find your lost ram,” Father’s voice sounded sure but distracted. For a while, I could hear him whispering over Berrit, soothing her and praying over her.

The night passed slowly. The day had been very hard. While I watched a portion of the flock, my mind kept wandering back to Gimel and Bethlehem and where could he be. From the sounds of the flock, they were restless too. Something seemed to be stirring in a corner of the field. By the faint light of the moon, I saw a figure coming toward our knoll.

I whispered, “Father, someone’s coming across the field.”

“Where?” he asked, coming over, his staff in hand. His sling, if there was any trouble, was at his waist so he could get at it quickly.

“There, nearing the edge of the flock. Isn’t that strange…the sheep aren’t afraid of him. They aren’t running away,” I said.

It became apparent that the figure was aiming directly for the knoll. My father and I were suspicious, but something told us we would not need our staves or our slings tonight. When he reached us, he nodded and walked past us to Berrit, still lying under the tree. In his hands was a staff and he took it and touched the ewe’s wounded leg. Instantly, Berrit got up and walked over to the stranger, who knelt down and nuzzled it.

We were incredulous! How could this stranger have healed our ewe? As we approached, we heard a voice, not with our ears, but with our minds and hearts, “The Lord says, ‘I know your heart, dear shepherd, and I have heard your prayers. I too am not willing that one of my sheep be lost.’”

Before we could ask how his voice could be heard in our minds, he flashed a smile, rose up in the air and out over the sheep. As he did, his clothes became as white as lightning and as fluid as water. His face and arms were so bright, we squinted just to glimpse him, but we could not stare, for our eyes would not let us. Looking around I saw that the light coming from him lit up the fields. We were terrified! His voice echoed across the valley like thunder, saying, "Do not be afraid.”

At this, Simeon bolted upright and hit his head against a branch of the tree. He cried out in pain, and then in amazement and more than a little fear at the sight of this angel.

“Listen!” the angel continued, “I bring you good news of great joy, which shall be for all the people. For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths, and lying in a manger."

And then…and then! It was as if all the sky were filled with angels, in the same glory as the messenger and they all cried out with a deafening roar, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased." All of the voices sounded like the roaring of a river at flood and it shook the ground we stood on. Echoes of “Glory!” and “Hallelujah!” bounced off every hillside and mixed into a fantastic music that I have never heard before or since.

And as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished. My father’s staff clattered to the ground and he fell to his knees. Berrit came and nuzzled him. I was unable to speak. I just stood there, looking up at the sky.

“Joshua!” came the voice of Simeon. “Is your father okay?”

“Father?” I shook him.

“I’m all right…Joshua. Was this real? Of course it’s real. Berrit’s leg is completely healed,” he said as he inspected her and then his heart bubbled over into laughing. “Jehovah heals!” and he said it over and over again.

“Yes, Uncle, he’s all right.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s run to Bethlehem and see what these…” he struggled for the word, “angels have told us about!”

“Who will watch the flocks?” I asked.

“Joshua,” my father said, his voice full of confidence, “I have reason to believe that our flocks will not need our care tonight.” He smiled and looked at me and then down at Berrit. And at once I knew what he meant.

As we ran and walked and ran on the road to Bethlehem, my father looked at my uncle and asked, “Are you sure we are not going to fast for you? Doesn’t your head hurt?”

“I’m fine! In fact, I’ve never felt better!” Simeon said, and we believed him. For a time, he led us down the road by a good distance.

When we arrived at Bethlehem, we began searching the inns, asking if there had been a baby born tonight. Yet each inn, packed as it was, had not had a baby born. We stopped at the very well I had used earlier. “What was it the angel said?” Simeon asked.

I spoke up, “’You will find a baby, wrapped in cloths and lying in…”

“A manger!” we all cried together.

“Of all people, we should know a manger is kept in a stable!” my father exclaimed.

“Who has a stable?” I asked.

“Ammon!” said Simeon, “He’s on the outskirts. His wife tends the inn and he uses oxen to plow the fields!”

We ran to the outskirts of town until we found the inn of Ammon and his wife. We pounded on the door and Ammon answered, “No room!”

“Ammon! It’s me, Simeon! We don’t want a room, we need to talk!”

“Simeon?” the door opened and we burst inside, almost stumbling over an older couple crowded next to the door.

“Do you know where a baby was born tonight?” Simeon asked.

“No. And I’ve heard no such news. I’m very busy, even this late.”

“Could we search your stable?”

“My stable? How did you…?”

“Nevermind,” my father cut in. “Joshua, go check the stable for a baby!”

The stable was down the hill in a rocky cave underneath the inn. I peered in to see a young couple resting quietly and…a baby!

I ran back up, “Father! I found the baby! Father! I found the baby!” They soon followed and we all crowded into the very tiny stable. The woman, named Mary, and Joseph were surprised to have shepherds barge in on them, but we just stood there, amazed to see the angel’s words come true.

“If you don’t mind,” Joseph began, “who are you? Did the innkeeper send you?”

My father and uncle began to explain all that had happened that night. Joseph and Mary looked at each other with strange looks, but they completely believed our story, having us tell them again.

I crept forward quietly and knelt down beside the huge manger holding such a tiny baby.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Y’shua,” Mary replied, “Jesus. You’re the first ones to see him.”

“My name’s Joshua, “ I said, smiling at the coincidence. “May I greet him?” I asked. Mary nodded and I leaned in and kissed the baby’s forehead. He cooed softly and shifted his gaze over, looking up at another face. When I looked to see who it was, I saw Gimel! He was staring down at the baby! He sniffed the baby, then snorted his approval.

“Gimel…” and then I stopped. Words would not come out of my mouth and there was nothing to do but hug my lost lamb. I removed a piece of rope from around his neck. Father held it up and inspected it. “It broke,” was all he said.

“You mean this is your lamb?” Joseph asked. “We thought he was the innkeeper’s.”

“Actually, we lost him. It happened earlier today. How did he come to be here?”

“We don’t know. We took this stable because it was all that was available. He must have come in while my wife was delivering the baby.”

Simeon came in with an armload of firewood. “Ammon sends this down with his congratulations and says he and his wife will be down with more wood and some extra blankets.”

“Thank you,” Mary said.

Simeon started the fire in the corner where the soot coated the walls and ceiling and soon the whole stable was warm. “It’s not much, but it will keep you until you can find a place more suitable.”

My father, my uncle, Gimel and I found our way back to the road. Each of us had a strain of the heavenly music that we were humming or singing. I looked down at Gimel, the wandering ram, as the words of the angel came back to me. “I too am not willing that one of my sheep be lost.”

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Note: This is a short story I wrote for my family last Christmas. It's a scary piece for me because I know very little about the lives of ancient shepherds. At my wife's request, I'm posting it. Please be gentle, as I haven't actually gone over the piece since then.  This is part 1 of 2.

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“Joshua!” the voice of my father yelled with a touch of exasperation in his voice.

I came around from the other side of the knoll with the tree on it to see my father standing over Berrit, one of the ewes from our flock. “Yes, Father?” I answered.

“Joshua, go into town to the healer’s house and get some of that herb mixture.”

“Is the leg not healing?”

“No, and we need her to heal soon or we’ll lose this one.”

I turned to gather my things and almost stumbled over my lamb. “Can Gimel come too?” I asked father.

“Yes, I don’t need him bleating for you all afternoon. Take an extra skin of water.”

Father was wise. I wouldn’t have thought to bring extra water for Gimel. “Thank you, father,” I said, gathering my supplies.

“I’ll go with you,” my uncle called. “Bethlehem is crowded because of the census. It’s a good thing we are the offspring of Jesse, eh?” All people in Judea had to go to the town of their ancestors to register for the census. This was only the start of our troubles, my uncle had said, because a tax would soon follow. But at least we didn’t have to travel far from our flocks to register. We covered more territory when we grazed than what existed between where we were and Bethlehem.

“All right, Simeon. But stay away from the inns!” my father said. I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but it must have been because it was so crowded.

Together, the three of us set out on the road into town. My uncle was right. The traffic on the road was unusually heavy, and most of them on foot. The occasional chariot or horse would either force people off the road or get bogged down amongst the rest of us. There was a line to enter the city from the road and it moved very slowly. Nearly all our water was gone by the time we reached the entrance to the town. When we did, we were stopped.

“Hey you! Can’t you read the sign?” called one of the council members, pointing at me. “It says ‘No livestock’!”

My uncle stepped in. “My pardon, sir. We are but shepherds. We didn’t know there was a sign and if there were, we could not read it. We have always been allowed to take our sheep here before…”

“It’s too crowded for people, let alone bringing animals in here from who knows where.” The man added with a menacing tone, “If you want to keep your sheep, you’ll keep it out in the fields.”

“Quite right, sir. Quite right,” my uncle bowed and I followed him back to the road side.

“Joshua, I can watch your lamb here and you can go to the healer's.”

“But uncle…” I started to say that Gimel will not like me going away and would bleat the whole time I was gone, but he shushed me.

“Go in and we’ll be fine. Go…now.”

I slowly gathered my pack and left them. My uncle walked over to a tree by the side of the road. Gimel began calling after me, but I had to do what my uncle said and soon his call was drowned out in the din that had come upon Bethlehem.

I went straight to the healer's house, but it was slow. So many carts and mules choked each street and alleyway that it was nearly impossible to make steady progress. Eventually, I found my way to the house and burst in the door.

“Joshua!” the healer’s face brightened at my entry. “Always an adventurer, eh?” he said, nodding to the crowds outside.

“Yes, sir. Do you have any of the herb mixture my father uses on the sheep?”

The healer’s face darkened slightly. “No, Joshua. All my herbs were used up last week. Even if I had planted fields upon fields, I would still be out. You wouldn’t believe the number of people...but then, I think you would,” he said looking again out the window.

“Do you know who else might have some?”

“Eh, you might try Jonas bar Mecham. But he’s on the other side of town, over on Olive Tree Street. You wouldn’t…”

“Thank you, sir.” I hadn’t meant to be rude, but I was most anxious to get back to Gimel, and I left as quickly as I came in.

I went to Jonas, who was out as well and referred me to another healer. By the time I reached the third, he was out too and the sun was getting lower in the sky. I was so distressed and tired that I had forgotten to drink water and now my throat was dry and burning with the dust from the streets. I found my way back to the well near the center of town and quenched my thirst, remembering to fill the skins I had tucked into my pack.

I hurried from there back through the town to the tree. But when I got there, there was no Uncle Simeon…and no Gimel. Panic set in as I looked about for them but they were nowhere to be found. I went back into the town down one street calling for my uncle, then the next. Then as I turned to check another street, I heard a familiar laugh. Uncle! I ran to the door I had heard it come from and found him standing, in an inn with a circle of other men gathered around as he told one of his many stories.

“Uncle!”

“Joshua! My boy! Come over here!” The face of my uncle was flushed red.

I came over as he introduced me to his new friends, “This is Joshua, my nephew. Joshua, these men are from all over the place.” His breath smelled of wine. “This is John from Caesarea Phillipi, Daniel from Jericho, and Jereboam from Tyre. And this is—“

“Uncle, where is Gimel?”

“Who?”

“Gimel!”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I haven’t met any Gimel. I haven’t yet met Aleph or Beth either.”

The men chuckled at the joke, and my impatience boiled over.

“Where’s my lamb!” I demanded.

“Boy, you should respect your uncle!” said one of the men.

“Uncle, you said you’d watch him!”

Slowly, recognition crossed his face and then a vexed look. “Isn’t he by the tree?”

“No!”

“Let me see,” he said and ambled his way out of the inn and back to the tree. With a pained look, he held up the end of a small piece of rope he had used to hold his pack over his shoulder on the way in. “I tied him to this tree and went to go find something to quench our thirst, for you were taking too long.”

“How long ago did you leave him?” I asked him. The sun was now beginning to touch the horizon.

“About a tenth or two ago.”

“Two hours?!”

“Joshua, I don’t remember. By heaven, he has to be around here somewhere. I can’t imagine someone risking taking a small lamb on the side of the road where everyone can see.”

“Gimel!” I called. “Gimel!” There was no response. We searched until the sun was almost gone.

“Joshua, we must go back to the fields! We have no oil and your father will be worried.”

“I can’t just leave him, uncle,” I objected.

“It looks like he has already left you. Come now!”

The road back to the fields was never so long. I kept calling out from time to time. Always silence greeted my call.

When we finally reached the fields, it was completely dark. My father’s anxiety about us had only grown with each star that appeared in the sky. He was angry that we had taken so long, even more so when he found we had not been able to find the medicine for the ewe.

“Father, I’m sorry. We wouldn’t have been as late if we hadn’t been searching for Gimel.”

“What happened?”

As I recounted my steps, my father grew more and more agitated. “Confound this census!” he said when I told him the healers were all out of the herbs for the ewe. But when I told him what had happened with Gimel, he lit into my uncle with a fury. “How am I to teach this boy anything when you can’t keep your word?”

“How was I supposed to know the boy would take so long?” Uncle Simeon said between bites of his evening supper. “We got thirsty and so I went searching for something.”

“Wine!”

“Yes,” he said, swallowing some bread, “the inn was convenient, the one right near the gate. But I didn’t plan to stay that long.”

“Now do you see the trouble your thirsty tongue gets you into?”

“If your boy hadn’t been so long…”

“You would have still found that inn. You took all of a tenth of a day to find it and get your stomach so full of wine you forgot my son and his young ram. Some shepherd you are!”

“I’ll always suffer when I am compared to you,” my uncle shrugged as he found his mat under the tree to lie down and finish his meal. It wasn’t long before we heard his loud snoring competing with the crickets.

“He’ll sleep it off and be right back to his old self, until he has to go to town again,” my father sighed. “What to do with this one?” he asked, looking at Berrit, the ewe with the wounded leg. “If she starts festering…” he said with some pain in his voice, “we’ll have to kill her.”

Joshua and Gimel -- Part 2 of 2

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Because it was buried in mumbo-jumbo a couple of posts down, I am re-posting this short children's story I wrote. It's about fairies, exclusion, heroism, and forgiveness. I hope you enjoy it. And yes, this may be the beginning of a trend.

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Maribeth's Moment
by Steve Walden

Once upon a time, there was a fairy. Maribeth was unlike all the other fairies because she had green eyes and all the other fairies had blue eyes.

Now, mind you, in our world, this is not a problem. Most of us have green eyes, or blue, or brown or even a combination of these colors.

But in the fairy world, every fairy has blue eyes, so blue that they would practically glow, and to have green eyes...well, the other fairies called her all sorts of names.

All of the names were horrible, but the one Maribeth hated the most was "leaf eater." Fairies, you see, don't harm plants, and there was a vicious rumor that Maribeth ate a plant and it turned her eyes green. It was completely untrue, too.

Maribeth had been born this way, and she had spent most of her days wishing her eyes were blue. In fact, she would imagine waking up one morning and finding her eyes the most beautiful shade of blue in the whole world.

She would think blue thoughts, have blue dreams, and even pray that the God of the fairies would make her eyes blue for even one day. Unfortunately, this never happened. This made her blue, except for her eyes.

One day, the fairies were playing out in the meadow. The dawn was beautiful, and all the fairies' eyes shone brightly in the new day's bright sunlight.

The fairies were playing with the dew and throwing dew drops back and forth at each other in a game of dodgedew. The air was filled with the sound of fairy laughter and screams at being hit...

...when suddenly the air shook with a dreadful sound: "Crrroooooak!" It was a frog! All the fairies screamed at the sound. They knew that frogs always mistook fairies for bugs, which isn't all that hard for a frog to do, given the resemblance.

So you can imagine the panic when the frog croaked again and leaped into the middle of the dodgedew game. Fairies were flying left and right and over and under each other...

...until someone cried out "Get down!" and everyone remembered their frog training and dropped like flies. Once on the ground, they wouldn't move as fast, but they would look less like bugs, which the frog would surely eat.

Maribeth was frightened by the frog, but she was safely in a corner and not very near the frog. Suddenly the frog stared very hard at one of the littlest fairies, Junie, who stared back with her very blue eyes.

The frog got closer and began to zero in on Junie, like a frog does to a bug right before he eats it. Someone else called out, "shut your eyes!" and Junie immediately shut her eyes.

The frog, confused, looked away, because of the sound and because Junie had shut her eyes, when the frog looked back, he took no notice of her. The rest of the fairies closed their eyes and they knew they were safe...for the moment.

There was only one problem. Since they couldn't see, they couldn't escape. They couldn't tell if they were going away from the frog or right into his big, scary mouth.

Maribeth looked at the frog, and for some strange reason, she didn't shut her eyes. She saw that the frog's eyes looked over her and they looked beyond her, almost like she wasn't there.

Then she realized, her eyes weren't blue, they were green, like the plants around her. Maribeth realized that she was safe and she could easily walk away from the danger that sat in the middle of the dodgedew field.

But then she wondered what would happen to the other fairies. They couldn't see to get away, and the frog certainly would discover one of them looking at him with their blue eyes.

And then, Maribeth swallowed. She knew the fairies certainly didn't deserve her help after the way they treated her, but could she leave knowing that a fairy or two, or even most of the fairies would die inside a frog because she wouldn't help them?

Maribeth stood straight as a twig and marched -- quietly -- over to Junie. "Psst. Junie. Take my hand. Keep your eyes shut, but take my hand."

Junie felt for Maribeth's hand and grabbed it tightly, mostly because she was so scared. Then Maribeth led her off the dodgedew field and into a high patch of grass.

Then she said, "Okay, open your eyes and run -- don't fly -- to the village and tell everyone there's a frog on the dodgedew field." "There's a frog on the dodgedew field," Junie repeated, and ran as fast as her fairy legs would let her.

Then Maribeth began to get the fairies, one by one, until at last every one of them was safe, covered by their parents' wings.

When the frog left, there was a terrific celebration in the fairy village, and Maribeth had the high seat of honor normally reserved for the Grand Fairymaster.

From that day on, no one called her "leaf eater." And no one made fun of her very green, and very beautiful eyes.

The End.

Maribeth's Moment, (c) Steve Walden 2006

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