I must get out of this town now that you are gone. I cannot bear the sight of this place, for everything about it reminds me of you.

It’s just after nightfall and as I walk the cobblestone streets of Bethlehem I wrap my cloak about me to keep the chill out. The huddled houses are lit from within. I can see people inside through the windows.  They are in the warmth of lit rooms, sitting at hearths, warming themselves at the fire; some are around tables eating. I can hear them from out here, although their noises are muffled. I hear their storytelling, their singing, their laughter. I hear children shouting in play. They are happy. Happy because they are with one another.

I want to weep when I hear their joy, but weeping will only make me more tired. So I hold back the tears and keep going. Where I go I know not. For there is no door that I can knock upon that would open and let me in.

But what is this I see, up at the end of the street?

It is a small caravan of strange people on horseback, moving along the cobblestone. A royal caravan. Soldiers in chainmail and golden helmets holding spears the length of two men. I cling to the shadows and pace my way closer to them. I want to see who or what they are guarding. When I am about ten paces away, still covered by the shadows, I see riding ahead of them a covered wagon with a treasure chest upon it. And ahead of that are three black horses. Upon those horses are not ordinary men, but magi! Yes magi! I see their ornate capes, their turbans as tall as beehives. I blink to see if it is a mirage. I pinch myself. I rub the weariness from my eyes. But no matter how I try to fight this vision, the great magi are still there!

When my mother was alive she used to read me stories about these men before bedtime. They are of the lands of the east and they are powerful indeed; they own libraries of books written from the time of Adam. They hold so much wisdom that they understand the very stars and the mysteries of the universe. They know secrets about heaven and how to get there and they are much greater than any average man. Why would they be here so far from their kingdom, with their rich capes and their statuesque bodies, in a town like mine? Why would such magnificent men be in this little town of Bethlehem?

Certainly there are no other magi here they can sit with, there are no vast libraries with books as old as time. No king resides here either, or any person of importance who might have invited them to dinner. Someone who could indulge them in choice foods and wines and send them to beds big enough for five men to sleep on. For I have heard that Herod himself hosts magi as often as he can. He begs them for their wisdoms and prophecies. Every king longs for the company of the magi.

Since I am an orphaned child and I have no plans this evening, I decide to follow them. I trail a good distance behind for I am not sure of their purpose and I don’t want to get in trouble this night. Yet, I must see where they are headed.

Of all places they stop at a stable, at a house near a shepherd’s field. Some shepherds are quietly gathered outside. Everyone is silent and peaking inside the stable. Is a stot being born? Is the mother fighting to give birth?

The shepherds make standing room for the royal visitors as the magi and soldiers dismount their blue-black stallions. The soldiers remove their golden helmets and place their spears to the ground. It is only now that I look up into the sky and see a star shining brighter than all the rest. The moment I look at it, it winks at me.

“Wow!” I exclaim unaware of myself.

The magi, the soldiers and the shepherds turn and find me. One of the shepherds shushes me. The tallest of the magi straightens his cape and steps in fine shoes over to where I stand. I fear he will strike me for disrupting the silence. But instead he reaches forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. His cape, the most glorious velvet I have ever seen, brushes against me. “Are you alone, young one?”

“Yes I am.”

“The ones you wish to be with on this night are gone.”

“Gone forever,” I say.

“There is nowhere for you to be on this chilly night.”

“There is nowhere for me. My family is gone.”

“You are lonely. And you, for some reason, are more lonely on this night than you have ever been.”

“How do you know all these things?”

“It is my business to know things. I know the things most others don’t.”

“Are you a holy prophet? A king in your land?”

“I am only a man. But fear not. The Great Ancient One has led you here. Come in. Look upon the one they call The King and see if you are lonely after meeting him.”

Stepping lightly toward the manger I am suddenly filled with peace. My feet are no longer tired, my bones no longer chilled. There is no hearth here, yet it feels as if there is one. A warmth consumes this place and I want to bask in it for as long as I can. The air is fragrant, as if we are not standing amongst animals and dirty hay, but amongst pristine lilies in an open field. The magi, the shepherds, the mother and father of the child are prostrate, bowing before the manger. I step to it and look down inside and see a babe, wrapped in swaddling with his arms free. At the sight of him I am no longer alone. My mother, my father, my siblings are standing by my side and we are all holding hands.

The babe’s innocent gaze searches the roof of the stable, his eyes seem to go far out beyond. There is silver in them and then I realize it is the reflection of that star. It somehow has penetrated the roof and is shining right on him. I fall to my knees just like the rest. A crushing joy has consumed me and I know I will never feel quite the same way again.            

Treasures are laid out on both sides of me. Golden urns containing what look like gold and precious oils. The oils add more perfume to the air. One is sour, one is sweet. I inhale their essences deeply and wonder what kind of exotic trees they came from.

I stay prostrate for quite a while. We all do. Just being there in the presence of this child is enough. Eventually I rise and bow to the mother and father and make my way out into the night. Before I go on my way, that same wise man comes outside, puts a hand on my shoulder again and says, “Where do you head to this night?”

“I do not know,” I tell him.

“Come with us,” he offers. “Would you like to live with my people?”

I look up at the star and I concentrate on its beauty and I say, “I am not afraid to be alone anymore.”

“Why is that?” he asks.

“If I had never been alone I would never have seen all that I have just seen. I would have never met you, felt the brush of your fine velvet upon my arm. I would have never peeked into the manger. Felt the warmth of the mother’s eyes on me as I lingered watching her son. I would have never seen the light of that star in his eyes. Me. Little nobody and lonely me. I am one of the first to have witnessed the King.  I must be blessed then. I must be bigger than I thought I am. And they. Who have left me. They must still be here somehow. Somehow I just know I will always have them. So I will stay here in Bethlehem.”

He smiles. “Peace be with you, my child.”

“And also with you.”

There is nothing left to do now but turn and make my way back into the darkness of night.