The story I brought inside the pocket of my cheek to tell in a Philly cafe stayed there. My daughter's name was drawn and she rendered me teary with the rendition of Ben being admitted to the hospital. She elaborated on Benjamin's mathematical prowess, including the time he answered an arithmetic problem in church that the minister intended to use as an illustration of the unanswerable. My cousin was also selected and had to pause several times, waiting for the laughter to subside. He did not make me cry.

As chance would have it the star of my story called yesterday from British Columbia and I had the fun of reminding her of that Christmas two decades ago. She gave me an update.

The new bartender that was recruited to be Joseph in her play is no longer new. He has cut his hair and begun a side job as a carpenter. The pub has shifted its focus towards being an inn for travelers. A few years ago he employed my friend to wash sheets on the log beds, and puts his arm around her in a brotherly way. Their friendship has aged gracefully. When she published a book about life in the Canadian Rockies he offered to peddle it to guests who come from far flung corners of the world.

Hearing the long view of her life reassures me that God's promise is as true today as it was that night in Bethlehem under a starry sky.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards all."  Luke 2