Mother of Joseph

(3rd installment of the Women of Christmas"

(My personal favorite)

I am the mother of Joseph. Joseph is a quiet man, strong and steady, with wonderful eyes--kind and gentle and warm. When he enters out home in the evening, with the clean scent of new wood about him and the tiny shavings still clinging to his robe, the room fills with his presence. It becomes a place of peace and contentment. And while he is not given to much laughter, he has nevertheless, a slow sweet smile that transforms his face and warms the hearts of those around him. He is a good man, my Joseph, with a deep and abiding faith in God and the strength to keep His laws. And so it was, when he thought the law had been broken, his eyes spoke of the pain his lips could not and shadows filled this home where had been only love and light.

Suddenly, amazingly, heartbreakingly, Mary was with child. It was not to be believed. Not Mary. And yet it was so. I had only to look into the face of Joseph to know the agony--to divorce or --send away the woman he loved. Joseph was torn with pain and I suffered with him. And then, like a miracle, the shadows were gone. What was said in that moment when a messenger of the Lord spoke with my son is for him alone to know. But the purpose was clear--this woman most dear was to become even dearer. Mary of Nazareth, most blessed among women, was to become the mother of the Messiah. With strength and dignity, filled with faith and the desire to give his Mary as much protection and devotion as possible, Joseph married her immediately and my heart swelled with pride.

You see, of all the souls in heaven, the Lord had his choice of the man to serve as the earthly father of his only begotten son. It was Joseph who would walk with Him through the hills and streets and into the synagogues for evening prayers. My son, Joseph, the carpenter, was to be the earthly father of Jesus, the Christ, Savior of the world. Joseph, my son.