Somewhere a long while ago,
when the world was at war
and the time was forebode,
a couple came into Bethlehem,
which is seven miles
this side of Jerusalem For the purpose, so they say,
of taking part in the census
which took place, so they say,
when the governor was Quirinus.
But a census is more
than just counting heads:
a census is all about
the counting of threads
and livestock and cattle
and horses you mount.
It's a count of your assets
and the cash
in your bank account. It seems all nice and innocent
when it's really quite insidious.
It seems to have a friendly face
when in fact it's very hideous.
But anyway, to Bethlehem
came this couple,
He with rough hands
she very supple,
from their village Nazareth
which the locals call town wild
came the middle-aged carpenter
and his bride great with child.
I guess they could have come
at a better time,
when the wife was not so plump
and made the trip in leisure.
But when the king says, "Jump!"
you jump: especially when
the King is called Caesar. So into the town pulled the couple
all tired and wary:
middle-aged Joseph
and his child-bride named Mary,
looking for a place
a bed, a nightstand,
a candle with wicks.
Didn't have to be the Sheraton:
they'd've settled for Motel Six.
But their plans were thwarted
and their gooses were cooked
when they found that all lodging had been booked, booked
and booked. "Listen, Mister Innkeeper,
"I'm not trying to be a jerk,
but my wife could deliver,
so won't you be
a great front desk clerk and find us a room?
"It could be on the third floor;
it could be near the cows;
it could even be a room
where smoking's allowed."
But the desk clerk shook his head
and said, "Sorry," with a calm.
"You should've used Orbitz
or Travelocity.com."
The clerk returned to his peanut butter and jelly
when he lifted his eyes
and saw the size of Mary's belly.
Her ankles were swollen;
her cheeks were all flushed;
her face was all forlorn
and her spirits were crushed.
Now the clerk was not an ogre,
not a gangster, not Black Bart.
His business-like exterior
betrayed a very soft heart.
So he said, "Look, I can tell
that you need to crash and to eat,
and you're in no condition
to be out in the streets.
I might be fired
and go back to waiting tables
if the boss finds out
I let you sleep in the stables.
I can't give you any pillows,
fresh towels in the manger,
but I'd rather you
sleep with the cows than be subject to danger."
And so that evening
to escape nature's harm
the Holy Family went to sleep
in a ragged old barn
with chickens and oxen
and angels who hovered
with sawbeams as pillows
and haystraw as covers.
They were so tired;
they couldn't complain
even a peep, and when their heads
hit the sawdust
they went straight on to sleep.
And did so, so says the legend,
so says the townsfolk,
when Mary sat up and yelled,
"Joseph, my water just broke!"
Now, Joseph was a tool guy.
Could do just about anything
with his hands. But this was not part
of his contract and certainly not part of his plan.
So he leaped out of bed
and cut quicker than a knife
to the front desk clerk and yelled,
"SIR, WE NEED A MIDWIFE!"
Well, the innkeeper rose
and went back there to check
to see if he could find anyone
who could watch the front desk.
Then he said to Joseph,
"Get back to your wife!
At best this'll be iffy,
but if I find Miriam the Midwife
we'll be back in a jiffy."
And so Joseph went back
as his heart doubled beat
and the front desk clerk
tore like crazy up the street.
Joseph sat down on the floor
like a love song's refrain,
holding Mary's hand
while she wiggled in pain
and bit her lip
and sweated and winced
And yet through the throbbing
she was truly convinced
that she was part
of God's plan here unfurled
as she brought the Son of God
to a wild, crazy world.
The contractions were growing
in pain and intensity
and everyone knows
that birthing mother have a natural propensity
to want to push
and to hurry on the process.
But every midwife knows
that'll only make a mess.
And just as Mary
was about at that stage
the midwife came running
through the barnyard gate
into the stable
and knelt on the floor
and said, "No need to worry,
no need to fret,
we'll have this little feller
out of here yet."
Then, so oblivious
to the whole human race the midwife coached Mary
and wiped off her face.
She rubbed her sore shoulders
and pushed the
muscles in her back while the donkeys brayed bravely
and the ducks crowed & quacked.
"So, tell me Mary,
first of all, do you thirst?
Second, tell me Mary,
is this your first?"
How long have been with Joseph?
Are you getting cold?
You're burning up with fever.
How is it to be
with somebody that old?"
And so all that evening
Mary shared with the midwife
her story, how she was visited by angel
beaming bright with God's glory.
She let her have the whole thing
from beginning to hear it:
the stuff of her being a virgin
and the Father the Holy Spirit.
She told how this child,
whose beginnings were so odd,
was to be none other
than the very Son of God.
Well, the midwife
had been present with probably a thousand women
and knew how the pain
brought delirium tremens.
So she fluffed it off
as something not to dread.
She thought that Mary was crazy,
a bit loopy in the head.
And so it went that night,
the contractions knifing
through her like darts, building in intensity
and closer apart.
And when it came time
to give it all and to expel,
the midwife looked in
and things weren't going so well.
"The baby's turned a little funny;
You need to relax and not gush
and lay very very still
until I tell you to push."
The baby's shoulder was crooked
and turned sideways in the canal,
betraying all the sense of normal
that had been until now.
But with all the babies she'd delivered
she still was filled with doubt
She told her to push
and the baby rushed out.
The midwife could swear
that the child
looked like all others. His skin was purple and red
and He breathed
with the shudders. His fingers were wrinkled
and His forehead misshapen;
His eyes were all gluey
and He tugged at her apron.
And she chalked it up
to another successful delivery
when all of the sudden
it grew quiet in the livery.
The dark air outside,
which had been dark
through the night, all of the sudden was filled
with a wondrous bright light.
She wrapped up the baby
and handed Him back
with hands wringing when the midwife could hear
the sounds of angels singing.
She stepped outside
and from hill, dale and forest
the night skies were filled
with a million angel's chorus.
Singing peace on earth,
and to all, goodwill.
The voices crescendoed
wave upon wave
like her soul a vestibule
and her weak heart a nave
until her entire being
was a sanctuary of worship and praise,
and she fell to her knees
with her soul in a daze.
And, just as quickly as it started,
the angel chorus kissed her
and tapered off in volume
and was barely now a whisper.
Then to the stable
while her heart
like butter churned, the midwife walked back
and to the mother she returned.
And there,
As though from the four corners of the earth had been led stood the minion of souls
standing round Mary's bed
. They were there
from all tribes and all faces,
from all ages and all nations ,
from all genders and all races.
And so the midwife
went home that glad morning
from another night of life
and another night of borning.
But somehow something special
had cried deep within her,
as if the baby she delivered
had been born deep inside her.
And as she crawled into bed
with the angels' "Amen,"
She felt as if she, the midwife,
was herself born again.
Well, that baby grew up
and by His life
brought a new dawn. But the story hasn't ended
and it's still going on.
The fact is that this baby
in calm seas and storms
is constantly looking for rooms
in which to be born.
But perhaps as important
in the grand scheme of life,
will you deliver Him to the world?
Will you be a midwife?
© Rev. Duane Brown, 2003
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