I believed the Little Drummer Boy was an actual participant at the birth of Jesus. Like, I'm talking when I was in High School I believed this. I should be embarrassed to share that, but oddly I'm not.  His attendance was never mentioned in the Bible and he's not one of ceramic figures in any manger scene I've ever beheld.

Still, words have been sung for the past fifty Christmases indicating his annual presence.Though I know he wasn't there at that first Christmas, I see him in a tattered red and blue outfit, offering what he has.  He's sort of a surprising figure because everybody else at the manger looks like they stepped off the pages of the Bible, as I imagine them in robes. But he joins them.

I am a poor boy too , pa rum pum pum pum,

 I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum,

That's fit to give a King, pa rum pum pum pum,

Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum

On my drum?

Every year there's a manger to remind us how a Holy Savior became small and approachable. Even a poor, small Drummer Boy is invited to his side.  The heavenly choir has already sang out and the wise men, in our story bear fine gifts year after year, but the stable holds room for more than these, and room for more than Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and livestock.  An odd picture, the sacred ground surrounding the newborn King is a place for the unworthy and the simple.  The Inn may have been crowded, but there's always a place at the manger.

We're invited, even if empty-handed.

But like the Drummer boy we know that a King like this is deserving of our offerings-

 like the gift of gratitude for a family and friends who love us

and the gift of joy expressed in a giggle when you take-out the garbage can (with your car)...for the sixth time

-A sigh paired with a smile when looking at a kitchen floor covered in Christmas cupcake crumbles

We come to the manger with the gift of awe that God allowed himself to be wrapped in a tiny bundle

though He's so much bigger than what we see.

We offer a contrite heart, full of things that don't matter

and we offer up a heart full of things that do

-Friends broken by loss and those we love who are bound with fear.

Strangely the giving of these burdens with the little faith we can muster is a gift to the King.

We come to the manger with moments of stillness aware that among the hustle and bustle, the one work that had to be done

began on Earth some two-thousand Christmases ago.

We're invited to come, and come often, to the manger this season. There's room.  And whether we have some extravagant thing to bring or something simple, may our hearts beat in rhythm with the Drummer boy who offers, but more importantly is captivated by a little King who makes room for us all.