Maui The Bearded Dragon

Maui’s little claws tapped across the warm stones as the busy street hummed around her.

Voices rose from every side. Sandals brushed the dusty road. Baskets bumped against knees, and the sweet smell of dates mixed with warm bread and wool. Maui lifted her head. Her brown scales glowed in the sun, and her small beard puffed as she took in the busy town.

“Bethlehem,” she whispered. “Somewhere here, people know about Jesus.”

She had come to listen. She wanted to hear the story of the baby who was soon to be born, the baby God had promised. Maui pictured a quiet place with a gentle voice telling every part. Perhaps she would sit beneath a wall of pale stone. Perhaps the story would float through the air like a soft song.

Then a donkey brayed.

Maui blinked and stepped aside as a cart rolled past. A man carried a tall stack of jars. A woman hurried by with a basket of figs. Children laughed near a cloth stall, and a seller called out about bright blue ribbons.

Maui turned in a slow circle.

“Which way is the quiet place?” she wondered.

She spotted a low step beside a marketplace wall. It looked perfect. From there, she might see and hear everything. Maui hurried toward it, keeping close to the stones.

Just as she reached the step, a crowd moved between her and the open square.

“Make room, please,” Maui said.

Her voice was tiny beneath the market noise.

A basket swung near her nose. Maui tucked her head down and waited. When the basket passed, she climbed onto the step. But the crowd had grown thicker. Tall robes blocked her view. A wide hat blocked the sky. Someone carried a bundle of reeds that waved right in front of her eyes.

Maui stretched her neck.

“Is someone telling a story about Jesus?” she asked.

No one heard.

The market seemed to roll like a river. People moved one way, then another. Maui stepped down to find a better place, but a group of travelers walked between her and the wall. She followed the edge of their robes for a moment. Then they turned near a spice stall, and Maui lost sight of the step.

She stopped.

The smells were stronger here. Cinnamon tickled her nose. Fresh bread made her belly rumble. A cool breeze brushed her scales, but she could no longer feel the warm wall at her back.

Maui looked left.

She looked right.

The street was full of faces, baskets, carts, and cloth awnings. None of them were the quiet place she had been seeking.

“I only moved a little way,” she told herself.

But the marketplace had many little ways.

Maui tried to climb onto a stack of empty crates. Her claws found the rough wood, and she pulled herself up. From the top, she could see over a few shoulders. She saw a fountain, a row of lamps, and a narrow street leading away from the market.

Most of all, she heard a voice.

“Tonight,” the voice called, “Bethlehem will remember a very special night!”

Maui’s eyes grew wide.

“Tonight?”

She leaned forward to listen. At that moment, a cloth seller lifted a long piece of red fabric. It fluttered across the space like a curtain. The voice disappeared beneath shouts and laughter.

Maui climbed down quickly.

“Wait!” she called. “Please tell me more!”

The crowd moved on. The speaker was gone.

Maui felt a small pinch of sadness. She had been so close. If only she had stayed on the step. If only she had listened instead of chasing every sound.

A gentle thought came to her. A quiet place did not always appear by itself. Sometimes she needed to stop, look carefully, and ask kindly for help.

Maui placed one claw on the cool stone wall.

“Hello,” she said to a woman carrying bread. “Could you please tell me where I can listen to the story about Jesus?”

The woman smiled, but the market was too loud. She pointed toward the fountain and said something Maui could not hear.

“Thank you,” Maui replied, even though she was not sure which way to go.

She followed the pointing hand. The fountain was not far away, but three streets seemed to meet there. Maui chose the one with the blue cloth hanging above it.

Soon the blue cloth was gone.

Maui turned around. The marketplace looked different from this side. The baskets seemed taller. The voices sounded farther away. She could not see the step or the spice stall.

“I should have marked the way,” she said.

A soft bell rang somewhere nearby. Maui followed its clear sound until she reached a small open space beside a stone building. The noise faded a little. She could hear water dripping and pigeons cooing on the roof.

At last, a quiet place!

Maui settled beside the wall and rested her warm belly on the sunlit stone. She closed her eyes.

A voice began behind the building.

“Many people are speaking about Bethlehem tonight…”

Maui smiled.

She listened carefully. The voice was calm, but it came from far away. A cart squeaked between Maui and the speaker. Then a group of people entered the open space, talking loudly about supper. Their sandals scuffed the ground....