Where's My Baby Jesus?

Prompt: Center the story around a character spending their first holiday alone.

Where’s My Baby Jesus?

The rain was pouring down like a waterfall as I peered outside the window of my rickety bamboo hut. No one would guess this was a few days before Christmas. Being in the tropics had its advantages, but this time of year I was at a loss to find any. There were no decorations inside my spacious tropical villa. Nor were there any in the tiny, remote village I was stationed at in the Fijian Islands. My first year of service was coming to a very wet and dismal end of what is now seemingly like an arduous volunteer assignment. 

The weather not only would cause dry rot in my wardrobe, but would rot away my overall excitement of the joy, peace, and love the season would bring to me. My teaching responsibilities were on hiatus for two weeks at the primitive school I taught. Certainly, one may think the time off was to celebrate the various holidays, but it really was to repair the roof thatching. The rainy season made the leaks more obvious to the highly skilled laborers who ascended and descended the wobbly scaffolding with buckets of dry mud, dried palm fronds, and straw.  When applied in the rain, the concoction when wet, would do its job to setup like a vegetable concrete. Given I had little to entertain me, I watched with hilarious laughter as the hodgepodge construction brigade hoisted materials up to the roof akin to an episode taken out of a Three Stooges movie.  

With all this time on my hands, I managed to complete a few weeks’ worth of lesson plans. But ask yourself how hard is it to make lesson plans for a bunch of six-year-olds whose main language was not English? I was dismally bored to tears. Even my prayers were soggy and lacking vitality. The rain continued to deluge my hut. A few leaks developed. So, I had to impose on the workers for a little vegetable concrete to do a DIY repair job on the inside of my roof. Normally the rainy season would not deter visitors to my hut, but there was so much standing water that the locals feared they might be swept away. Whether it was the intense boredom or just plain reckless judgement, I decided to venture out of my palatial hut in search of food or any companionship that would cross my path.

After a few moments wading in knee deep rapids, I decided to return to my quarters. I thankfully had enough food to last me through Christmas and into the new year. A few days passed and the rains were unrelenting. It was now Christmas Eve. My main meal that day would be a little rice, a lot of boiled taro, and a tin of mackerel. I could hardly wait for the feast to begin! Christmas Eve night was unbearably lonely. It was a very silent night. In my mind it was not a holy night as thunderous clouds still cascaded torrential rain upon my hut and the nearby village. I thought what did we do to deserve this nightmare?

Under the soothing sound of the continuous rainfall, I dozed in and out of consciousness. Images of a childhood memory raced across my dreams. I pictured myself at my childhood home with my older brother and younger sisters. We were getting ready to head out to midnight service.  I looked under the tree to see if any presents had been delivered. Nothing yet. The only item below the branches was Mama’s plaster of Paris statues for the nativity. I checked to see who was in the manger. Everybody was in attendance as I silently whispered their names: Joseph, Mary, shepherd number one, shepherd number two, Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar (the three wise guys with gifts), the cow, the sheep, and the camel. But where was the baby Jesus? He was not in the manger. Why? Why, I lamented. My brother rolled his eyes with disgust. “You lame-brain! Wake-up! He hasn’t been born yet! Mama doesn’t put him in the manger until Christmas Day!” After that stark revelation the family headed to church. After the service I raced up to the sanctuary where the church had its nativity on display. Sure enough! They had their baby Jesus!  So, I clenched Mama’s hand pulling her up to the manger. “Mama, how come the church has its baby Jesus in the manger and we don’t?” She looked at me with loving eyes saying “Jesus wasn’t born yet. Now it is well past midnight, and the baby was born on Christmas Day.” So, I insisted, “Where is my baby Jesus?” Mama said, “He will be there when we get home tonight.” Sure enough, Jesus was there. When I was older, I discovered that Mama snuck him into the manger before we left for midnight service. 

It was still dark outside when I awoke to another vicious clap of thunder. The rain seemed to be lessening. Perhaps it was my wishful thinking. Today was Christmas. No tree. No presents. No family. No service. No baby Jesus. I settled in to do nothing on this most joyous of days.

Late in the afternoon, however, there was a commotion outside my doorway. It was my friend Waisake, a fellow teacher. He was dripping wet, but I Iet him in any way to drip on my recently swept dirt carpet. Waisake said, “Ni sa bula, brother. It’s time you get out of this place for a little celebration. (His English was exceptional).” I looked at him in disbelief. Are you kidding me? Where would we go?” With a wryly smile he jested, “Down to the river for our daily swim.” He chuckled at his own joke. Waisake added, “Let me take you where you will not be alone to celebrate this glorious day.”  I asked him somewhat seriously, “Have you been drinking too much yaqona chased with shots of Fiji Bitter beer?”

Waisake led the way as we trudged through knee high pools of water and mounds of accumulated mud. I turned to Waisake saying “I think I have had enough of this little journey.” Waisake responded, “You will be happy you came with me.”  We finally approached the entrance to the corrugated tin roof church. We were soaked to the skin; water logged one would say. Once inside I saw that there were no decorations. Nothing that would remind someone of Christmas. There was a group of people from the village crowded together. Most of the locals were of Fijian descent; the others were Hindu Indians. The group was gathered in a circle around something I could not yet see. It was not long before they recognized who I was. Their faces were elated. The Ratu (Chief) of the village grabbed my hand pulling me closer to the center of activity. 

At the center of the group was a rickety feeding trough filled with straw, cloth, and a cooing baby. “Whoa! This is amazing, Waisake!” Waisake said, “Being a man of faith I knew you would appreciate this, my reverend friend. Merry Christmas!” I asked him, “Whose child is this?” He said, “We really do not know. The child was born this morning and left inside the church. But no child is ever left without a family. As you can plainly see, the child has many brothers, sisters and parents that will provide care and love. I see you are deeply touched by this.” If there was not enough water in our midst, my eyes were filling up with tears. My tears fell upon the child as I baptized him “in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

Yes, Christmas day was nearly over. Nevertheless, the joy I felt from that short visit instilled in me that I should never cease asking “Where is my baby Jesus?” He will be found in the strangest of places through the love of strangers who desire to seek the face of Jesus Christ even in everyday life. And yes, especially from the birth of an abandoned child on Christmas day.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.  He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped Him in cloths and placed Him in a manger because there was no guest room available for them.  And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is the Messiah, the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.”  (Luke 2: 4-14, New International Version)

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com