Behold
Written by Emma McCoy
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Hi everyone! As some of you may remember, I did a series last Easter that consisted of short stories from the perspective of a little boy from Jesus’ time. This little boy witnessed the events of Easter and struggled to make sense of them.
For Advent this year, I want to do something similar. But rather than take us back to Jesus’ time for his birth, I’m going to situate us in modern day. Follow along these short stories as I take us through a familiar story in an unfamiliar way. Can you identify all the parts of the Advent story? Here’s a hint: the narrator is an outsider, watching everything from ‘outside’ the story.
Advent: Week 4
Behold!
The door flew open, the little bell jingling furiously.
The clerk and I both looked up, and I automatically took a step back. There were six people clustered by the front—five men, one woman. Their clothes were worn and dusty, boots coming apart at the seams, and they smelled of dirt and sweat. We stared at each other. Someone whispered in what sounded like Spanish. They waited behind a man with long, dark hair. It seemed they were unwilling to come in any further without direction from him.
“Can I help you?” the clerk said tersely.
“Que vamos a decir?” someone whispered. “El ángel nos dimos que—”
“No te importa, Felix va a saber que hacer.”
The Coke in my hand was cold. I had an odd feeling in my chest, watching the group. If I had to guess, they were probably migrant workers finishing out a season up here. I hadn’t seen any of them around town, which didn’t surprise me. But this late at night, this many people…I tried not to sweat.
“Hey,” I said.
The man with long hair took a step forward. “I am Felix,” he said in heavily accented English. His hands moved around as he spoke, always coming back to clasp together. “We…here. Para el bebé. Where?”
“What makes you think there’s a baby here?” the clerk asked at the same time as I said, “How do you know about the baby?”
The clerk glared at me. I grimaced. Felix smiled slightly under the fluorescent glare of the convenience store. All the rows of packaged snacks, the bright orange chips, neon drinks, slowly rotating hot dogs, held no fascination for the workers. No one was looking around. They were all staring at the clerk and I like they were waiting for the most important thing in the world. Like if they were to even blink they might miss it. My heart pounded. I was sweating. I wanted to edge behind the counter, but instead I leaned forward to hear what Felix was going to say.
“Where bebé?” he asked.
“Why do you want to know?” the clerk replied gruffly.
The woman behind Felix whispered something to him. “We want…see. Him,” he said, turning back to us. “Él es un hombre tan importante. We were…told.”
“Who told you?” I asked. “Nobody else has been here.”
“Un ángel,” the woman said quietly. “Afuera, en el cielo. Una luz como el sol…”
“It is…confuse,” Felix said. “An ángel told. Afuera. The field.”
“It’s too dark to work,” the clerk said.
“The light. Strong. Small house. Out…side… el ángel told. A child. Save…everyone. Todo el mundo.”
“Behold,” the woman said sagely, the word a new shape in her mouth. The pounding in my heart was so loud I was surprised they couldn’t hear it. I felt like I’d run several miles. Like I was being swept away by the wind outside. Like there was something on the other side of this strange encounter that might change everything I knew.
The clerk narrowed his eyes at Felix and his crew. “An angel?”
“Si.”
“An angel told you about this girl having a baby.”
“Just now. Afuera.”
And just like with me, Felix seemed to pass an invisible test of the clerk’s. “Well, alright then,” he said. “I’ll go ask her if she’s alright with youse all coming back.”
Felix and the rest of them waited silently for the clerk. I felt entirely unnecessary. I sipped my Coke. I wanted to go back again and get another glimpse of this child. I wasn’t sure about all that angel business. Could it have been a group hallucination?
Maybe. But here they all were, in the middle of the night, when a day’s work was behind them and another harder day ahead of them. Huh.
The clerk came around from the back and jerked his head, signaling everyone forward. The workers gestured for me to go first, and wouldn’t let me wait behind. As I walked I tried to remember the last time I’d seen a migrant worker, or paid attention to one. Nothing came to mind. It was an odd night.
“What a night,” the clerk mumbled as I passed him.
“Isn’t this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?” I asked him.
“Not even close.”
The storage room was a little crowded now, but everyone made sure to give the mother and child enough space. Some people said what could have been a prayer, others a blessing. The woman just looked on and smiled. The mother looked exhausted, but her eyes were bright. The baby was still sleeping.
All this fuss for a baby? I thought. But even as I thought it, that strange ache in my chest seemed to both ease and sharpen. The pain was gone, but the longing increased. I wanted nothing more than to hold the baby and feel his head against my face. I wanted to sit down and just be with him forever. I wanted to walk out of this room and shout as loud as I could.
More than anything, I wanted to talk to him. I realized I’ve wanted to talk to someone for a long, long time.
I shook my head. Babies can’t talk. Outside in my car, I waited longer than I meant to. The wind was still blowing, tossing leaves and branches around the gas station. Inside, the fluorescent lights flickered, the store seemingly empty. But I knew better.
“A strange night,” I said aloud. Still, I didn’t turn the car on. I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. When was the last time I’d called anyone except for work? Did anyone notice I was gone? Certainly not my neighbors, who I’d never spoken to.
Would anyone notice if I were gone?
On the drive back to the inn, it felt like my skin was made of bees. Or ants. I was crawling all over. I was full of energy, a Coke bottle shaken up. I need to move. I needed to do something different, because of this night. Because I’d encountered something so strange, and so powerful. I was filled with joy. I was terrified. I was ready to see what might happen next.
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About the author
Spring Church member, Emma McCoy (M.A.), has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/