Many years ago in a small Russian town, Grandmother Noëlle Baboushka was sweeping out the empty stable on her farm. She had heard that Wise Men had been roaming the countryside, looking for a star that would lead to a royal child.
“I hope those Wise Men don’t come to my door,” she said. “I have no time for folklore. There is no star.”
Grandmother Baboushka lived alone, fighting with her family over her expensive grandchildren. She could not spare a penny for their lives, whether it was for their fun or for daily necessities like shoes and clothes. Every day, she dusted the old toys of her children, which she kept as showpieces from the money of her deceased husband.
“Aren’t you excited about the star?” the neighbors asked the grandmother. “All the townspeople are looking for it!”
“I’m busy!” she said. “I have business to run on my farm. Please, go ask someone else. Maybe they’ll find it for you.”
She spent the week sweeping, dusting, scrubbing, gardening, cooking, and baking—all by herself without any distractions.
As the week went on, the Wise Men had heard of Grandmother Baboushka’s farm and thought they could spend the night.
The three kings came to her door before midnight, saying: “Can we stay with you for the night? We only want to give our gifts to the royal baby. Do you have a gift to give to the child? Join us tomorrow on our journey if you please.”
“Oh, I don’t know why you would want to stay here with me. I saw the Star in the West,” she said, telling a very bad lie. “Don’t spend another moment in our Russian village! Find the baby now. I’m sorry, but I have no gift for him.”
Then she closed the door and locked it tight, leaving the three kings in the blistering snow and cold in the Russian town. After the kings were long gone, a family arrived at her door, a pregnant mother on a donkey with her poor husband.
“We are fleeing to Egypt. It is such a far journey. We have been traveling for days. Please, we need a place to stay for the night,” the husband said. “My wife is pregnant. Our baby can’t die in the winter. She is due any day now.”
“There is no place to keep you in my home or stable,” Grandmother Baboushka said, lying again. “The barn is full of animals, and the beds in my home are full of my children and grandchildren. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”
As she slammed the door shut, she peered out the window at the pregnant mother, crying and holding the donkey’s neck. The next morning, the angel Gabriel appeared at her bedside, and she was thrown to the floor in shock and fear. A bright light surrounded the angel, and Grandmother Baboushka trembled on her knees, as if she knew her crime.
“The royal baby has been born in Bethlehem in a stable. Last night, you refused kings trying to find him, and you sent his own mother away. In penance, you will now journey through Russia and beyond with a candle and place toys at the head of each child that you meet. Seek the Babe of Bethlehem while he still may be found. This is Christmas morning!”
Before she could say anything in her defense, the angel Gabriel disappeared, and the bright light vanished. Grandmother Baboushka sat still for a moment, and then wept in sorrow for her selfishness and greed.
“Maybe I can still find the royal baby,” she said, gathering her children’s old toys in a knapsack.
She placed the candles from her cupboard in her bag as well. Then, she set out for Bethlehem, like the angel said. Night after night, on her way to Bethlehem, she stopped by the homes of strangers to give gifts to their children. Although she was a generous woman, none of the people let her rest for the evening in their houses. She roamed from place to place, never at peace. However, she did bless the Russian children with presents.
“I will never find the royal baby,” Grandmother Baboushka said. “I will die alone. I am so sorry for my greed.”
Despite her fear, she made it to Bethlehem and inquired at a local inn about the three kings and the royal family.
“Yes, the kings and babe were here, but they left,” the innkeeper said. “I wish that I had more than a stable to offer them.”
“Oh, do you know which way they went?” she asked, remembering her own dishonest directions.
“The baby king has fled to safety with his parents. The kings have returned to their own country,” the innkeeper said. “However, if you would like to sleep where the royal child slept, I can let you stay there for the night. It is such a shame that you are too late. It was Jesus, the Savior of the World. The kings told me that his mother tried to visit you.”
“Thank you. I would like to sleep where Jesus slept for the night. Then, I will be on my way to find him,” she said.
“He did come to you for safety. What would have happened if he didn’t find me?” the innkeeper said.
Curling up in a barn filled with animals, Grandmother Baboushka wet the straw with her tears. “Please, let me have another chance, God,” she said. “I just didn’t know it was you. If I had only known . . .”
The next morning, she set out to buy more gifts, to leave at the pillow of each child that she met, hoping it was baby Jesus. After decades of wandering, still hoping to find Jesus, she returned home to her Russian farm, to die in disappointment.
Even her own children would not speak to her. She had been gone for more than a decade, and surely, they thought she had already died by now. She figured it would only be a matter of months before she passed away.
“I’ve already given gifts to every child that I met,” Grandmother Baboushka said. “It must have done no good . . .”
That night, in her sleep, she woke to find the royal king, who was a tall, gentle man, standing at her bedside.
“Truly, I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” Jesus said. “Thank you for every gift that you gave to a child. I loved every single present, and so did my mother.”
Before Grandmother Baboushka could say anything, she was whisked away to heaven with a company of angels. Still to this day, the legend of Noëlle Baboushka, the Christmastime Grandmother and her gifts, lives on, warning those who forget to bless strangers in need, reminding them that Mary once birthed Jesus in a stable with Wise Men on Christmas Eve.
Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters
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