A Cold Night

I stopped by the Donut Hole to grab some coffee late last night.  I overheard a young couple ask a police officer if he knew of any motels with vacancies.  He shook his head apologetically.  Their reaction told me that they had probably already been up and down the motel strip.  From their looks, I'm not sure they could afford a motel anyhow.  The woman, preganant and in her late twenties, wore a faded-out dress that fell ten inches short of her ankles, white athletic sox and black Converse tennis shoes.  Her only covering on this cold December night was a grey hooded sweat shirt.  The fellow wore old jeans, a black hooded sweat shirt with holes in it and brown sandals without socks. 

Buck, who ran a dairy farm a few miles outside of town overheard the conversation as well.  He approached them.  I couldn't hear what Buck said but I saw the couple's expression.  It was one of pure joy and relief.

I grabbed my coffee, jumped in the old Ford and fired her up.  Kicking her in neutral I took a moment to think.  There was something about Buck's gesture that went beyond profound.  I'd seen acts of kindness before, but this was somehow different.

That moment was fifty-two years ago and I remember it like yesterday.  Why shouldn't I, old dairy farmer Buck provided shelter for the weary travelers whose names were Mary and Joseph.  That following morning, Mary gave birth to the baby Jesus in Buck's cottage.

I still cannot imagine how each of the twenty or so motels on the strip turned down the couple's request for lodging.  Does it really make a difference that they didn't know the woman carried in her womb the Man who would save the world?  Would it make a difference to you?

Merry Christmas!

The Rothackers

Comments

[Joy Des Jardins]

That's wonderful Dave....thank you.