Trouble At The Inn

For years now, whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the midwest, someone is sure to mention the name Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of a Nativity Play has slipped into the realm of legend. But the old-timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling just what happened.

Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, Wally was well-liked by the other children in his class, all of whom were smaller than he. Although the boys had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them or any other game, for that matter, in which winning was important.

Most often they'd find a way to keep him out, but Wally would hang around anyway--not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector, paradoxically, of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would be Wally who'd say, "Can't they stay? They're no bother."

Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play's director, Miss Lambard, assigned him to a more important role. After all, she reasoned, the innkeeper did not have too many lines, and Wally's size would make his refusal of lodging to Joeseph more forceful.

And so it happened that the unusually large, partisan audience gathered for the town's yearly extravaganza of crooks and creches, of beards, crowns, halo's, and a whole stage full of squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than Wallace Purling. They later said that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lambard had to make sure he did not wander on stage before his cue.

Then came the time when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted backdrop. Wally the innkeeper was there, waiting. "What do you want?" Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture.

"We seek lodging."

"Seek it elsewhere." Wally looked straight ahead but spoke vigorously. "The inn is full."

"Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and are very weary."

"There is no room in this inn for you." Wally looked properly stern.

"Please good innkeeper, this is my wife Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired.

Now, for the first time, the innkeeper relaxed his stiff stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment.

"No! Be gone!" The prompter whispered from the wings. "No! Be gone!" Wally repeated automatically. Joseph sadly placed his arms around Mary, and Mary laid her head upon her husband's shoulder, and the two of them started to move away. The innkeeper did not return inside the inn, however, Wally stood there in the doorway watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling with unmistakable tears.

And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all others. "Don't go, Joseph!" Wally cried out. "Bring Mary back." And Wallace Purling's face grew into a bright smile. "You can have my room."

Some people in town thought the pageant had been ruined. Yet there were some others---many others--- who considered it the most Christmas of all Christmas pageants they had ever seen.