The Solemnity of Saint Joseph

Today is my husband's birthday. His middle name is Joseph, in honor of Saint Joseph whose solemnity we celebrate today. I'm pulling a piece from the archives and re-posting it here today. I originally posted it on this day last year. Saint Joseph, pray for us!

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J.M.J

Lovingly dedicated to my beloved James Joseph Fitzpatrick, whose birthday is March 19, the Solemnity of our dear Saint Joseph.

How could this be?

He had never known anyone like her; had never known anyone as graceful as she.

Her goodness and her abiding faith in the Father had taken his breath away.

But now this crushing weight leaves him gasping.

She has defended her purity; claims she is still a virgin, that God is his father.

And he believes her with all his heart.
But who is he to raise this child? Just a simple man, surely not fit for a task of such magnitude?

A million thoughts race through his head. Perhaps someone else is better suited.

He decides to leave her; he will divorce her quietly, to protect her from scandal and the harsh public punishment of the Law.

Fear and confusion do not prevent him from recognizing Him in a dream.

All of his life he has obeyed His law, His Word, why should now be any different?

Knowing his life will no longer be the same, he embraces his beloved promising love and protection.

He will raise the child as though he were his very own.

He chooses to trust Him, because he knows He is trustworthy.

Anxiously, he searches for shelter knowing full well the time is at hand.

Perhaps if he had pressed on instead of taking so much time to rest,

they would have arrived in time to secure a room at this insufficient inn.

The frazzled proprietor noticing her, takes pity and leads them to the shelter of a crude cave.

What else could he do?

His wife smiles appreciatively at the innkeeper and he offers him a little more than his asking price. 
Now is not the time to worry about money.

Softening, the old man promises to send his maidservant with food and water and a blanket or two.

Taking her feet in his hands he carefully wipes away the grime of their long and arduous journey.

Her hands cradle his face lifting his eyes to meet the tenderness of her own.

Her radiance is dazzling, even now.

He tells her not to worry. He tells her he will take care of her always.

Quickly, he fashions a mattress of hay, among the malodorous beasts whose feeding trough he has chosen for a cradle.

He prays silently, apologetically.

He recalls the words from the dream and is consoled.

It really doesn’t matter that there were no vacancies at the inn; the comforts of this world could never surpass the fulfillment of His kingdom.

Somehow he knows in his heart and soul, that his faith was about to be rewarded; that His kingdom was about to be established on earth that very night!

Who is this ancient man, Simeon, proclaiming these synchronic words of profound joy and future trepidation?

Can his dear wife bear the weight of these cruel words?

He wonders about the sacrifice his foster son will endure for the sake of all mankind.

His rugged, sun-baked arms, cradle the babe ever closer to his heavy heart, as he speculates, “Will our Love once again carry us through?”

Again the angel of God appears to him in a dream, this time urging him to scoop up the child and his mother and flee with haste to Egypt.

The life of his little boy, Jesus, was being ruthlessly sought by the despicable King Herod!

Hiding out by day and traveling by night, he leads them to the safety of a foreign land, relying solely on the message of an angel.

Along the way he learns of Herod’s rage-induced mass murder of the wee lads of his friends and neighbors and his countrymen.

He and Mary weep with grief for the lives of these holy innocents, butchered for the sake of righteousness.

He is showered by the ridicule and insults of those who deem him crazy for believing in a dream.

Others condemn him for fleeing while their own sons are torn violently from their arms.

O, God, how can he blame them?

While navigating the narrow, rocky trail he wonders what the stones might utter if they could speak.

Gazing up at the star-swelled sky, he remembers another journey and a promise made many years ago; the promise echoing through time, now a rallying cry urging him on and bringing him peace.

He could sense his father Abraham journeying with him in the stillness of the night.

Encouraged by this holy presence he presses on; a refugee carrying the new promise into a foreign land.

Once more an angel asks him to trust.

Obediently, he gathers them to return to their homeland.

This time they are joyful and lighthearted, singing hymns of gratitude by day and resting at night.

As he treads the stony path, he recalls Moses leading his forefathers out of Egypt into the Promised Land.

He carries forth His child in an exodus reminiscent of that one so many years ago, back to their home where he will raise His son, who will grow in age, grace and wisdom.

And who will one day lead others to the new Promised Land.

Darby C. Fitzpatrick (c) 2010