Once in a small Russian town, Grandmother Agata Baboushka spent her mornings sweeping out the empty stable on her farm. More recently, she had heard that three Wise Men had been roaming the countryside, in search of a star that would lead to a royal child. She was unsure how the men had come to her country. It seemed like such a far way away from their home near Bethlehem. She worried about strangers drifting through her town.
“I hope those Wise Men don’t come to my door,” she said. “My memory is no good, but some of this doesn’t make sense. I have no time for folklore. There is no star or royal child.”
Although Grandmother Baboushka lived alone, she fought with her family over every expense in raising her 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 from her children’s youth. She kept them as a reminder of the happier days when her deceased husband would spend money on small luxuries.
“Aren’t you excited about the star?” a neighbor asked the grandmother. “All the townspeople are waiting to see it in the sky! Everyone wants to meet the new king!”
She was too old to keep up with such matters and could not remember how the people of the village started babbling about this supposed star leading to the birthplace of a king.
“I’m busy!” she said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a business to run on my farm.”
She spent the week sweeping, dusting, scrubbing, gardening, cooking, and baking—all by herself without any distractions. She had always believed that she could work her way out of any mess. Any problem could be fixed by working harder, or so she thought.
As the week went on, the traveling Wise Men had heard of Grandmother Baboushka’s farm from the village people. The three kings were told that there was more than enough room in her stables to spend the night and get a good night’s sleep, but Grandmother Baboushka wanted no part in hosting any foreign guests. She was aghast that she was volunteered for the task.
When the three men came to her door right before midnight, she was so nervous that she could hardly speak. She just wanted them to go away. There was no way that she was going to give way to such foolishness and let them stay with her.
“Can we stay with you for the night?” called a voice, as she heard a knock on the door. “We only want to find the star that leads to the coming king. There will soon be a new King of Israel. His star will rise when he is born. If we follow the star, we will find him. We have gifts to give him. Do you have a gift to give to the child? Join us tomorrow on our journey, if you please.”
“Oh, I’m an old grandmother for heaven’s sake. I’d only slow you down,” she said. She opened the door a crack to see their faces. Although they looked like kind men, the thought of them staying with her was just too much trouble. She already did enough cooking and cleaning.
“All are welcome on our journey,” one of the Wise Men said. He wore a bright colorful tunic. The camels with the men also looked tired and in need of water and rest.
“I don’t know why you would want to stay here with me. I saw the Star in the West, or maybe it was the East. I really don’t know,” she said. Even if she told a fib, she thought it was for the best. “I’m a poor widow. I don’t have money to help you. Now don’t spend another moment in our Russian village! Find the baby now. I’m sorry, but I have no gift for him.”
“But we thought we saw the star over your village,” one of the other Wise Men said.
Then, she closed the door in their faces, locked it tight, and left the three kings in the blistering snow and cold in the Russian town. After the kings were long gone, a family arrived at the grandmother’s door, a pregnant mother on a donkey with her poor husband.
“We are fleeing to Egypt. We might stop in Bethlehem first. 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. She knew full well that she could help them, but she felt unsafe with strangers and had so little extra money. “The beds in my home are full of my children and grandchildren. My stable is full of animals. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”
As she slammed the door shut, she stood there alone. Her children were at their own homes with her grandchildren, and in general, spent very little time with her. She peered out the window at the pregnant mother, who cried as she held the donkey’s neck.
“Where is your mother?” the grandmother asked the woman through the window. “Who sends a pregnant woman riding around on a donkey? I’m going to bed. What nonsense!”
A few weeks later, the angel Gabriel appeared at the grandmother’s 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.
“Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, has been born in Bethlehem in a stable. You refused the three Wise Men trying to find him, and you sent his own mother away. In penance, you will travel to Bethlehem. On your way, you will journey through Russia and beyond with a candle and place toys at the bedside of each child that you meet. Seek the Babe of Bethlehem while he still may be found. This is Christmas morning! Your new name will be Noëlle.”
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, she wept in sorrow for her selfishness and greed.
“Maybe I can still find this baby named Jesus,” she said, as she gathered 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 gave gifts to the strangers, none of them let her rest for the night in their houses.
She roamed from place to place, never at peace. However, she did bless the Russian children with presents of every kind—first her children’s old toys, and then others she bought along the way, like tumblers, spinners, rocking horses, bean bags, toy soldiers, Russian folk dolls, and kaleidoscopes.
Even though her money was running low, she figured she was giving everything she had to this new king called Jesus. Then, maybe, somehow, she could be forgiven.
Although his earthly parents were not wealthy, it seemed that Jesus was royalty of a heavenly type. He was the type of king who had angels at his command. She thought the Wise Men must have known this from the beginning, which is why they were so eager to find him. She was so worried that she would never make it to Jesus.
“I will never find the baby king,” Grandmother Baboushka said. “I will die alone. I am so sorry for my greed.”
Despite her fears, she eventually arrived in Bethlehem and inquired at a local inn about the three Wise Men and the Son of the Most High God named Jesus.
“Yes, the Wise Men 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?” the grandmother asked. She could not waste any time.
“The baby king has fled to safety in Egypt with his parents. The three Wise Men have returned to their own country,” the innkeeper said. “However, if you would like to sleep where the child slept, I can let you stay there for the night. It is such a shame that you are too late.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I would like to sleep where Jesus slept for the night. Then, I will be on my way to find him.”
“What would have happened if he didn’t find me?” the innkeeper said. “I had to hide him for the night. King Herod is trying to kill him. He gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem two years old and younger.”
So upset about Jesus’ safety, Grandmother Baboushka collapsed in a barn filled with animals for the night. She wet the straw with her tears and prayed about what to do.
“Please, let me have another chance, God,” she said. “I just didn’t know that it was your son that the pregnant mother was carrying. 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. She secretly hoped that one of the children might even be Jesus.
“Here you go, sweet child,” she whispered, as she gave a rocking horse to a small boy in a Bethlehem home. He had been asleep for the night, and his mother allowed the grandmother to visit his beside. “Might his name be Jesus?” she asked his mother while he slept.
“No, his name is Aaron,” the mother said. “Are you looking for someone special?”
“Yes, but in the meantime, I hope your son enjoys the toy,” Grandmother Baboushka answered with such disappointment. She felt so heartbroken inside that she had not found Jesus.
Still hoping to find the Son of the Most High God, after she spent years of wandering, she returned home to her Russian farm in defeat.
Even her own children would not speak to her. She had been gone for more than a decade, and they had gone on with their lives as though she had died. 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 to God in prayer. “Why have I not been able to find Jesus?”
That night, in her sleep, she woke to find Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, still a child, standing at her bedside.
“Truly, I tell you, whatever you did for 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. 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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