Showing posts with label Christmas Eve. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas Eve. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Trouble At The Inn

Every night in December, my family sings a Christmas song, shares a Christmas scripture and reads a Christmas themed story. Bless my wife’s heart, she can’t make it through most of them without crying.
Last night, we read one of my favorites. For the holidays, I’d like to share it with you.


Trouble At The Inn
By Dina Donahue


For many years now, whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the Midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of the nativity play has slipped onto the realm of legend. But the old-timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened.


Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, his class, all of whom were smaller than he, had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them or any game, for that matter, in which winning was important.

Most often they'd find a way to keep him out but Wally would hang around anyway not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would always be Wally who'd say, "can' they stay? They're no bother"


Wally fancied the ideal of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play's director, Miss Lumbar, assigned him to a more important role. After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines and Wally's size would make his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful.


And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience gathered for the town's yearly extravaganza of beard, crown, halos and a whole stage full of squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up on the m*gic of the night than Wallace Purling. They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lumbar had to make sure he didn't' wander on stage before his cue.


Then the time came when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the Inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door sat into the painted backdrop. Wally the innkeeper was there, waiting.

"What do you want?" Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture.


"We seek lodging."


"Seek it elsewhere," Wally looked straight ahead but spoke vigorously. "The Inn is filled."


"Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and are very weary."


"There is no room in this Inn for you." Wally looked properly stern.


"Please, good Innkeeper, this is my wife, Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired."


Now, for the first time, the Innkeeper relaxed his still stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment. "No! Be gone!" the prompter whispered from the wings.


"No!" Wally repeated automatically, "Be gone!"


Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary and Mary laid her head upon her husband's shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not return inside his Inn, however. Wally stood there in the doorway, watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling unmistakable with tears.


And suddenly the Christmas pageant became different from all the others.


"Don't go, Joseph," Wally called out. "Bring Mary back." And Wallace Purling's face grew into a bright smile. "You can have my room!"


Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined. Yet there were others.... many, many others... who considered it the most Christmassy of all Christmas pageants they had ever seen.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Click, click, click

The clock radio was old. It was so old, the numbers displaying the time were on little flat plates that would flip over when the time changed. In fact, the clock made an audible clicking sound when the time changed. At night, the time could be seen by the little light that illuminated the block numbers.
It was the only clock we had in the bedroom I shared with my two brothers. It sat on a bookshelf where we could all see it. Most of the time, I wasn't aware of the little clicking sound it made--it was just background noise--like the humming of the fridge, or the sound of the heated air blowing through the vents. However, on this particular night, I was very aware of the clicking sound. With each of the small, timely noises, it meant it was that much closer to morning.
I had fallen asleep fairly easily that night, but my little 7 or 8 year old body was just too excited to stay asleep. It was with dismay that I woke up and saw that the clock read 2:30 am. Let's see. If I was to get up at 7:00 am, that meant I had, wait--let me think about it--about 4 and a half hours to go. How many clicks was that? Ug, too many to figure out.
How did I sleep most of the time? What was the trick? Certainly my body was tired enough to sleep, but my mind had other ideas. It was filled with, oh, what was that saying? Ah, yes. "Visions of sugarplums dancing in my head." (What the heck is a sugarplum anyway, and why would it be dancing? Frankly, that's kind of scary--no wonder I had a hard time sleeping if my mind was filled visions of those)
I didn't want to wake up my brothers. No, let them sleep. Just because I was too excited to sleep, I shouldn't deprive them of the pleasure. Dang, only 2:47 now.
"Thad? Are you awake?"
" No, and neither are you. Go back to sleep."
Harrumph.
Click, click, click. The minutes painfully passed. Click, click, click. Is that what the author was referring to when Santa came down the chimney? It kind of made sense now that I thought about it.
Then I got an idea. They said that counting sheep helped you fall asleep. But why sheep? Why not goats, or cows, or platypuses (or should that be platypusi as the plural of platypus?) Bah, it didn't matter. Sheep were fine. I imagined 60 sheep in a pen. Each second, one sheep would jump out of the pen. I'd start the count when I heard a click of the clock. That way, when the pen was emptied, another precious minute would have passed, bringing me closer to 7:00 am.
Darn if that pen didn't keep filling up with sheep.
"Kenny, are you awake?"
"Yes!"
"Me too!"
"I'm too excited to sleep!"
"Me too!"
Pause
Pause
Okay, back to the sheep. I waited for the clicking so the pen would fill up. Click. Ah, there we go.
After the longest night of my life, we closed in on 7:00 am. Even Thad was awake now. We got dressed as the time got closer.
Then, it happened! 7:00 am! Whoo hoo!
"Mom! Amy! Time to get up!"
They were slow to respond. Bah! It was 7:02 now!
Amy came out of her room. As the oldest, and the only girl, I wondered if she understood how important this was.
"Mom's going to be taking pictures. I always look gross. I'm going to take a shower first," she said.
Are you kidding me? It was now 7:04 am! Taking a shower? I don't think so. Thankfully my two brothers voiced their displeasure at the idea as well.
Mom was up now. "Get in a line at the top of the stairs. Youngest to oldest," she instructed.
We did as we were told. C'mon! It had to be at least 7:06 by now!
"All right," she said. "Let's go see what Santa brought."
And so we did.