The Christmas season has decidedly begun. (Let's be honest, its been beginning for a couple months now at least) But I've been mostly oblivious to it except for a couple wreath displays at DollarTree since I've either been too pregnant to prance about the mall stores or having just given birth I've been staying home with the bebe. In any case, maybe it's having this new life in my arms night and day but I find my mind lingering at the scene of the Nativity. More so, however, as we've begun this journey through the advent season, my mind turns to the journey young Mary and Joseph took as they approached Bethlehem.
Here were two individuals. How long were they married? Not too long. Did they speak to one another? Presumably; getting to know one another. What words were spoken? Surely, many were not. Did they speculate who this child would be. The one Mary carried and Joseph was entrusted. As any parent would, surely they had hopes and dreams and deep desire for this child to grow in health but also to grow to be loved not only by them but by his world. Yet, even in sharing these words, it seems that Mary would know that at least some of these hopes, hopes she couldn't help from springing in her heart, would not be the case.
Yet, with the birth of her child around the corner, Mary like any other mother has nothing but joy and anxiety- the right mix and balance of both, of course. She makes every step, breathes every breathe fully aware that each moment draws her closer to that moment of bringing new life, Life itself into the world. Could she have truly understood this reality? Could she bear to live if she did? Maybe one day I can ask her myself. For now, I just sit here and wonder.
And what of Joseph. Many times, when I think of Joseph, I think of my own husband. I know this may sound strange, and maybe this is due to my own lack of imagination, but I always imagine Joseph having been very much like Tony, my husband. His mannerisms, his consideration, his constant desire to be the best father he can be but mostly because he takes his calling to be father the most important of all tasks he will ever have. We have agreed, since our early dating days, that there is and never can be nothing more beautiful, more important a task entrusted to us than that of parents (if God gave us that gift). And here He has, three times over. This is what I see Joseph to be like. Constantly thinking, planning, weighing. But mostly trying. In trying perfecting this call to fatherhood.
On this journey, I see Mary and Joseph. Mary sitting on the donkey, belly and all, too tired to sit up straight from the hours of riding. Joseph steering the donkey. Feet dusty and cracked from the miles of walking but still standing tall for his wife. Being her strength and never allowing his weariness to show: not in his stance and certainly not on his face. From him, she is reminded of God's immense grace and love. From her, he sees God's immense goodness and strength.
This is where they begin. They have a long journey ahead but they find themselves looking to one another to see God and in doing know what they must do. They don't presume to be on some noble quest or be inflated by a sense of proud destiny. They walk on their chosen path. They simply walk to Bethlehem.
Here were two individuals. How long were they married? Not too long. Did they speak to one another? Presumably; getting to know one another. What words were spoken? Surely, many were not. Did they speculate who this child would be. The one Mary carried and Joseph was entrusted. As any parent would, surely they had hopes and dreams and deep desire for this child to grow in health but also to grow to be loved not only by them but by his world. Yet, even in sharing these words, it seems that Mary would know that at least some of these hopes, hopes she couldn't help from springing in her heart, would not be the case.
Yet, with the birth of her child around the corner, Mary like any other mother has nothing but joy and anxiety- the right mix and balance of both, of course. She makes every step, breathes every breathe fully aware that each moment draws her closer to that moment of bringing new life, Life itself into the world. Could she have truly understood this reality? Could she bear to live if she did? Maybe one day I can ask her myself. For now, I just sit here and wonder.
And what of Joseph. Many times, when I think of Joseph, I think of my own husband. I know this may sound strange, and maybe this is due to my own lack of imagination, but I always imagine Joseph having been very much like Tony, my husband. His mannerisms, his consideration, his constant desire to be the best father he can be but mostly because he takes his calling to be father the most important of all tasks he will ever have. We have agreed, since our early dating days, that there is and never can be nothing more beautiful, more important a task entrusted to us than that of parents (if God gave us that gift). And here He has, three times over. This is what I see Joseph to be like. Constantly thinking, planning, weighing. But mostly trying. In trying perfecting this call to fatherhood.
On this journey, I see Mary and Joseph. Mary sitting on the donkey, belly and all, too tired to sit up straight from the hours of riding. Joseph steering the donkey. Feet dusty and cracked from the miles of walking but still standing tall for his wife. Being her strength and never allowing his weariness to show: not in his stance and certainly not on his face. From him, she is reminded of God's immense grace and love. From her, he sees God's immense goodness and strength.
This is where they begin. They have a long journey ahead but they find themselves looking to one another to see God and in doing know what they must do. They don't presume to be on some noble quest or be inflated by a sense of proud destiny. They walk on their chosen path. They simply walk to Bethlehem.
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