Joseph

As soon as I saw him
he had my heart.
I was taken over
completely,
totally.
He was
so small.
so fragile,
so vulnerable.
I held him
in the palms of my hands
and I gazed at him.
Then, when he opened his eyes
and looked at me…
I know,
people will tell me
that he couldn’t really
see me
but
I think he could…
my heart just melted.
I’m not ashamed
to say
that I shed a tear.
I couldn’t move.
I daren’t move
in case
I dropped him,
hurt him,
injured him
in some way.
I was used to holding
wood,
turning it over in my hands,
feeling it,
caressing it.
It was beautiful
in its own way
but tough.
You could hammer nails
into wood,
but this,
this was a living being;
a baby,
and one totally dependent
on me

Then the spell broke.
There was so much
to do.
Mary
gave me instructions
and I followed them
but it was all
a blur.
I was
in a daze.
What a privilege
to be at this birth.
Of course,
it shouldn’t have been
like this.
I felt so guilty
putting Mary through this;
taking her on such
a journey
when she was expecting;
failing to find her somewhere
clean and comfortable
to spend the night.
And then this.
No-one to help her
with the birth
except me.
But I did my best.

And now
we had a son,
our first-born.
But,
and there was a big but,
this was not
my first-born.
This was not
my son.
This,
in some strange,
inexplicable
way,
was God’s Son.

I didn’t understand.
I had tried
but
I didn’t understand.
I didn’t doubt Mary.
I believed her story.
I believed in her.
I had even seen
an angel
myself
so I knew it was true.
But still,
I didn’t understand.

And yet,
when I looked
at this little bundle
of life
lying, sleeping
in Mary’s arms
I was overwhelmed
with love.
Such love.
whether he was
my son
or not
I could not
have loved him more.

And then
the magnitude
of all this
hit me.
God
had entrusted
me
with His Son,
His precious Son.
He had given
me
the responsibility,
the privilege
the joy
of loving,
protecting,
cherishing,
teaching,
raising to adulthood
His Son.

Would I be
equal
to the task?
Would I?
Could I do it?

But,
as I look at you,
Jesus,
my Jesus,
I will make you
this promise.
I will do my best,
my very best,
for you.



© Kathleen Wilks