James Etheridge

I stood by the door to the inn watching the people approach, only to be turned away by the innkeeper. I had heard there would be many travelers coming to Bethlehem due to a census. I did not know what a census was. I was only trying to earn a few coins by playing my drum. Other than my clothes and sandals, my drum was the only thing I owned. My father had left it behind when he abandoned my mother and me. I was only a baby and my mother had died not long after he left. I barely remembered her. I lived with my aunt and uncle until I woke up one morning and they too had left. So I was left alone with no one, just me and my drum.

A couple came to the door of the inn. The man was handsome, with black hair and a beard. He was leading a donkey, upon which was sitting a very pretty lady. Her feet were on the left side of the donkey. She held its mane with her right hand. Her left hand was placed on her tummy. “But we have traveled all the way from Nazareth,” the man said. “I am sorry,” said the innkeeper, “but there is no room left in the inn at all.” “Is there anywhere we can take shelter?” the man pleaded. “My wife is great with child and I am certain that this could be the night.” “The only place is the stable,” said the innkeeper. “It will be cold and drafty, but there will be straw and hay from which you can make a bed.” “Thank you,” said the man. “I will be happy to pay you.” “That won’t be necessary,” said the innkeeper. “Mazal Tov.” The man, woman and donkey then moved slowly in the direction of the stable.

The innkeeper watched them as they went, then looked down and noticed me. He reached into his pouch, pulled out a coin and flipped it to me. “Here, young man,” he said kindly, “Find yourself food and shelter. It’s going to be cold tonight.” “Thank you, sir,” I said. I put the coin in my pouch and walked toward the gate at the wall around the city.

I found a palm tree near the gate and curled up under it. I rested my head on my drum and fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of footsteps and the clamor of excited talk. A group of shepherds came by talking excitedly. “The angel said that we would find him in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger,” one of the shepherds exclaimed. “Where are we going to find a manger?” asked another. “There have to be dozens of stables here in town.” “We’ll start at the inn,” said the first shepherd. “If the child isn’t in the stable there, we’ll ask the innkeeper and lodgers.” They hurried away and I lay back down.

Just as I drifted off to sleep I was awakened again, this time by the slow and rhythmic clop, clop, clop of camel hooves on the hard-packed dirt. I stood up and gazed toward the sound. Moving slowly toward the gate, I could see the dark outlines of the camels with the riders perched high upon them. Even in the dark, it was easy to tell that they were wealthy, perhaps even royalty. I quickly picked up my drumsticks, strapped on my drum and hurried out of the gate to meet them. As I approached them, I heard one say something to the others and the camels stopped. “Pardon me, your lordships, but I was wondering if you might like for me to keep a beat for your camels to walk to, or perhaps to announce your presence?” They all looked at one another and talked amongst themselves again. The one in the front leaned forward and said, “How old are you, child?” “I don’t rightly know, sir. I figure about seven or eight.” “Seven or eight, eh?” he said. “Do you know anything about who we are or why we might be here?”
“No, sir.”
“We are visitors from the east. I am Gaspar. This is Melchior and Balthazar. We have traversed afar, across field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star.” He pointed at the sky and for the first time I saw a bright star, brighter than I had ever seen, directly over the city. “Come,” he said, “there is a newborn king to see here in the city of David. We bring fine gifts to set before the king to honor him.” The camels started to walk slowly again toward the city gate. I walked along beside them but did not play my drum. I was too excited about meeting a king. I had never even seen a king before, let alone met one.

They continued to follow the star and were moving toward the inn, when Gaspar said suddenly, “Stop! Look at the star!” The star was very low in the sky, very bright and right over the stable next to the inn. “Our journey is over,” said Balthazar. The three men dismounted the camels and led them to the stable. Each was carrying a small gold box.

When we walked into the stable the shepherds I had seen earlier were there, along with the man and woman who were talking with the innkeeper. They looked very happy and had what looked to be a glow around their faces and heads. And lying in the manger, wrapped tightly in strips of cloth was a newborn baby boy. Upon seeing the infant, the three visitors from the east fell to their knees in front of him. They placed their hands upon him, bowed their heads and began to pray. The donkey the woman had been riding on was in a corner, along with an ox and a lamb. All three were looking happily at the child.

The three men then produced their gold boxes and laid them at the foot of the manger. Melchior’s box contained gold, Balthazar’s frankincense and Gaspar’s myrrh.

“What is his name?” I blurted out, then immediately wished I hadn’t. I was, after all, only a boy. But the mother smiled kindly and warmly. “He shall be called Jesus,” she said. I swallowed hard. I had just realized that I was staring at a king. “Baby Jesus,” I said shakily, “I am a poor boy, too. I have no gift to bring. All I have is my drum. Shall I play for you?” The father smiled. “What say you, Blessed Mary?” he said to the mother. She nodded. I swallowed hard again, took a deep breath and began to play.

It was a simple marching beat at first, but then suddenly something came over my shoulders, arms, elbows and wrists. The rhythm flowed out smoothly and easily. I looked to the ox and lamb and their tails were moving in perfect time with the rhythm. I watched their tails intently, careful not to miss a beat. I played and played, then looked back at the child. He was watching me intently. It was the best I had ever played and I was playing my best for him. I kept playing until I could feel the rhythm coming to an end. After the last measure, I rested the sticks on the drumhead and bowed my head to him. I lifted my head up and a feeling came over me like I had never felt before or since. He was still watching. Then, he smiled at me. Me and my drum.