ADVERTISING
| |
ADVERTISING |
CONTENTS Fiction Juvenile
1st Place
2nd Place
Honorable Mention Adult
1st Place
2nd Place
Honorable Mention Nonfiction 12 and Under
1st Place
2nd Place
Honorable Mention Juvenile
1st Place
2nd Place
Honorable Mention Adult
1st Place
2nd Place LODINEWS LINKS
» Home Page |
The Christmas miracle from the inn owner’s view Heather M. Cochran Rachel signed as she retreated to her room for a few minutes rest. The inn was busier that she could ever remember. Her father, the innkeeper, explained it was because Caesar Augustus had ordered a census; everyone must go to his native city to register. Her father had been born here in Bethlehem, so they didn’t need to travel. Though business was unusually good, there was much work to be done, and everyone was exhausted. The rooms were full, and Rachel had repeatedly sent people away. Glad for a break, she began to climb the stairs, just as someone pounded on the door. “Answer that, Rachel!” her father called from the kitchen. “It’s Aaron’s turn!” Tired and grumpy, Rachel wanted sleep. “I’m busy!” her brother called from where he say playing knucklebones. Another knock drew an exasperated “Rachel!” from the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Rachel opened the door. “I’m sorry, we have no room. The next inn is just down the road,” she said as a young man greeted her, looking as exhausted as she felt. “Please, every inn in Bethlehem has already turned us away. You must let us in,” he pleased desperately. “Sir, there’s no room!” Rachel tried to close the door, but he stopped her. “My wife is having a baby. At least give her a warm place to rest.” “Well...” Not wanting the baby to die, she consented, and called to her father. “Abba, there’s a name here, and — ” “No room” her father interrupted, staggering by laden with trays of foods. “Send them away.” “She’s having a baby, Abba.” Giving the trays to the reluctant Aaron, the innkeeper came to the door. “Sorry sir, but there’s nothing we can do. I’m extremely busy, so don’t bother me again.” “What about the old stable, Abba? It’s warm and safe. We can’t allow the poor baby to die.” “Well, all right. Get your mother, Rachel; you can help deliver the baby.” “Thank you,” said the man. His wife, sitting on a donkey behind, smiled wearily. Rachel led them through the clean, crisp night to the small, musty-smelling stable, then raced back to gather blankets and swaddling clothes. Arriving back, she obeyed her mother’s every command. Everything finished, Rachel watched as the smiling mother held her new son. Somehow, Rachel knew he was special. Singing gently, the mother laid her son in the manager and, upon the request of her husband, lay down on some blankets in the straw to rest, continuing to gaze happily at the child. The sky was velvet navy, speckled with golden stars when shepherds entered the stable. “An angle of the Lord came to us, saying we would find the King of Kings in a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Is this he?” they inquired. The husband nodded. “His name is Jesus.” The shepherds knelt before him. “My Lord,” they said. Though not sure how, Rachel knew that this tiny babe was the hope of all mankind for years to come. Lodinews Home | News | Sports
| Business
Features |
Opinion | Obituaries |
Classifieds | Archives |
PLEASE VISIT OUR ADVERTISERS
» 2-Illuminate |
