The town was full of people, and more had arrived with each passing hour.  A cacophony of sounds—human and animal—also filled the town.  In the air was something else, too, and that was the welcome warmth, feel, and smell of spring.

It was night.  The ordeal was over.  The baby had arrived.  A young mother lay exhausted on her husband’s cloak that he had carefully laid over the dusty hay in his meager efforts to make her comfortable.  He sat beside her tenderly holding the baby which he had wrapped in narrow bands of cloth.

They were talking.  He told her to rest.  She was very tired, but she was so full of adrenalin that sleep was impossible.  They were full of wonder at their new parenthood, and also full of wonder as they considered what they should do next.  They were far from home, needed help, and knew not where to turn.

Like the rest of the visitors to the town, they’d come there to be enrolled for taxation.  They had known that the baby would probably come during their visit there, but they had supposed they’d find better lodging than this pile of hay in a stable.  They were glad to be in a quiet place, but they couldn’t stay here.  Where would they go?

The man rose to get his wife a drink, and carefully laid the baby in a manger.  It was then that they came—a group of men.  They were out of breath, timid, and wide-eyed.  Their looks and smell identified them as shepherds fresh from the fields.  They entered cautiously, glancing from the man to the woman, asking with their eyes if they might advance.  One spoke in awe-struck tones, and said, “It’s so!  Just as the angel said.”

They paid little further attention to either the man or the woman as their collective gaze fell on the tiny bundle lying in the manger.  They gazed.  They adored.  They sank to their knees in wonder, as if all strength had suddenly left their legs.

The man and the woman wondered, too.  Why were these men here?  Who had sent them?  What was this they said about an angel?  Why were they breathing like they’d been running?

The man asked their purpose in being there, but the answers were wild and garbled.—An angel?  A choir?  Lights?

An ecstasy seemed to seize the group.  They’d entered very reverently; but as they quietly backed toward the doorway, first one, and then another, turned and ran.  They could be heard shouting as they flew down the street.

The last shepherd to leave the stable nearly knocked over a woman who was just entering.  The woman hesitated for a few moments as she took in the scene, then went reverently to the baby.  She gazed intently, and then knelt by the woman on the hay.

“Are you all right, little mother?” the kindly woman asked.

Receiving assurance that the mother was well, the visitor turned to the man and asked, “Can you carry her?  I want you to bring her to my house.  I know who you are.  An angel told me that I’d find you here, and instructed me that I must come with all haste and have you remove the mother and the child before you’re thronged with people.  You must come quickly.”

With that the woman reverently reached into the manger and lifted the babe into her arms.  She turned to the man, who hesitated only a moment.  Quickly he bundled their things, and tied the bundles on their donkey.  He knelt beside his wife, gently removed the cloak from beneath her, put it over his own shoulders, and then lifted her into his arms.  Holding the donkey’s lead rope, and carrying his wife, the man followed their visitor into the night.

The news was noised abroad by the shepherds.  Their reports were all the same, and were all given with such excitement and veracity, that it was difficult to disbelieve them.  Yet when the town converged on the stable, no one was there.

Clearly, something had happened, but it was difficult to say what.  The shepherds unitedly said that an angel had told them that a savior had been born.  This was the very city where that was someday to take place.  Some had seen strange lights in the night.  And there was an unusual star unlike anything that had ever been seen before.  But where was the child the shepherds said they’d seen in the stable?

Days passed, and weeks.  The events were much talked about, but the mystery wasn’t solved.  Forty days after the shepherds’ visit to the stable, had anyone been watching, they’d have seen a couple making their way to the temple in Jerusalem, five miles away.  The woman carried a baby.  The man carried a small box containing two young pigeons.

Also approaching the temple that day was an old man, Simeon by name.  A compelling urge was causing him to go there.  This was the fortieth day after the strange events that had occurred in Bethlehem, and if the Savior had really been born, he knew that the mother would go there on that particular day for the ritual cleansing.  As soon as he entered those sacred precincts, his eyes were drawn to the couple who had just arrived.  He hurried to them, and asked the young mother if he might hold the baby.  The parents marveled as the elderly man proceeded to prophesy, and named the child with an identity they thought was known only by themselves.

That strange encounter was followed by another as a woman of great age also singled them out and correctly identified them.  They marveled.  They wondered.

They gave the pigeons to the priest who performed the ceremonial rites for the woman’s purification, and then they returned through the green hills to the house in Bethlehem.  Their benefactor greeted them with obvious relief.  She’d been watching, and bade them sit and partake of the meal that she had ready.

The man and the woman told of the two strange encounters they’d had in the temple with the venerable man and the aged woman.  The widow nodded knowingly.

“It was the angel again,” she replied.  “He visited both of you on separate occasions.  He went to the shepherds, and he came to me.  He probably went to Simeon, too.  I know the woman in the temple of whom you speak.  Her name is Anna.  She is a prophetess.  She and Simeon are obviously set to be witnesses, too.”

The man and the girl (for that is what she was) were grateful for the kind widow’s help.  She had taken the place of the girl’s mother—comforting, counseling, nursing, cooking, and holding the baby so that the mother could sleep.  Her help, and the lodging she’d provided, were invaluable.  The girl thanked her repeatedly.

The man was grateful, too.  His gratitude was shown less by words, and more by action.  The furniture and house were now repaired.  The woman had a beautiful table made by the man’s own hands.  She was thankful to have a man in the house again, and was grateful for the female companionship that the girl provided.  Most of all she was grateful for the special privilege that was hers to hold, love, caress, rock, and sing to the precious baby.  She was a witness, too.  She knew who the baby was.  The angel had told her.

There were to yet be other witnesses.  They came that evening.  Recent days had been overcast and cloudy.  The sun and moon had been obscured.  Even the bright, new star that had been the topic of many a conversation throughout the country had been hidden from view.  But on this evening, the clouds parted just enough that the rays from that brilliant star shone down through a hole in the clouds and illumined a single house in Bethlehem.

A caravan of opulent travelers was just then approaching the town, guided by torches.  Their eyes had been watching the star for weeks.  They had known that they were close to their destination when they entered the country where scripture said the child would be born.  But where to look for him in that wide country?

The travelers were prophets.  They were also kings, and therefore, had no hesitation about going to the king of the land to ask directions.  They were instructed to go to Bethlehem.  How would they find the child when they reached the town?  The hole in the cloud on this otherwise perfectly dark night provided the obvious answer.  The star, which had previously just hung in the heavens, now became a spotlight by means of the opening in the clouds.  A single house was illuminated.  To these spiritually sensitive men, the answer was clear.

“And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him:  and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”  (Matt. 2:11).

The widow was astounded that kings should be in her house.  To see these noble men kneeling before the baby that she held every day was more than she and the man and his wife could understand.  And the gifts!  The gifts represented more wealth than any of them had seen in their lives.  The man tried to object, but the prophet-kings told him the gifts were needful.  Aside from the privilege they’d had of seeing the child, the gifts were the real reason for their visit.  The men had been sent on this long and difficult journey for the express purpose of providing this help.

The men lingered as long as they could; but the hour was late, and they had no wish to be obtrusive.  They presented the gifts, and then the men and their retinue were gone.

Was it a dream?  Had kings really been there?  The gifts they left behind were confirmation, but the baby’s three guardians were in deep consternation.  Sleep was slow in coming to each of them; and the night was further shortened by the activities of the baby’s unseen guardian, the angel.

The angel went first to the wealthy benefactors who had left the gifts for the child, and told them not to return to the king who had directed them thither.

The angel next went to the man, waked him, and said, “Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word.”  (Matt. 2:13).

The man, as was his custom, obeyed instantly.  He arose, and bundled up their belongings.  He gratefully eyed the kings’ gifts.  The gifts would sustain them on their sudden journey and during what might be an extended stay in Egypt.  He tied the packs on the donkey, placed a generous gift from the kings’ bounty on the table for the widow, waked his wife, and “took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt.”  (Matt. 2:14).

The widow awakened before light.  She knew instantly that the family was gone.  The very air in the house was different.  There was no need to get out of bed and check.  She knew.  She felt a great emptiness, yet she’d known they couldn’t stay.  There was emptiness, yes; but in her heart a great peace welled up and engulfed her soul as she lay there and recalled each moment of the seven weeks she’d spent serving that special family.  She, too, was a witness.