Dear Mom,
We're still in Bethlehem--Mary and I and little Jesus.
There were lots of things I couldn't talk to you
about last summer. You wouldn't have believed me
then, but maybe I can tell you now. I hope you can understand.
You know, Mom, I've always loved Mary. You
and dad used to tease me about her when she was still a girl. She and her
brothers used to play on our street. Our families got together for supper.
But
the hardest day of my life came scarcely a year ago when I was twenty and
she only fifteen. You remember that day, don't you?
The trouble started after we were betrothed and signed the marriage
agreement at our engagement. That same spring Mary had left abruptly to
visit
her old cousin Elizabeth in Judea. She was gone three whole months. After
she got back, people started wondering out loud if she were pregnant.
It was cloudy the day when I finally confronted her with the gossip.
"Mary," I
asked at last, "are you going to have a baby?"
Her clear brown eyes met mine. She nodded.
I didn't know what to say. "Who?" I finally stammered.
Mom, Mary and I had never acted improperly--even after we were
betrothed.
Mary looked down. "Joseph," she said. "There's no way I can explain. You
couldn't understand. But I want you to know I've never cared for anyone but
you." She got up, gently took my hands in hers, kissed each of them as if
it
were the last time she would ever do that again, and then turned towards
home. She must have been dying inside. I know I was.
The rest of the day I stumbled through my chores. It's a wonder I didn't
hurt
myself in the woodshop. At first I was angry and pounded out my
frustrations
on the doorframe I was making. My thoughts whirled so fast I could hardly
keep my mind on my work. At last I decided just to end the marriage
contract
with a quiet divorce. I loved her too much to make a public scene.
I couldn't talk to you. Or anyone, for that matter. I went to bed early and
tried
to sleep. Her words came to me over and over. "I've never cared for anyone
but you.... I've never cared for anyone but you...." How I wished I could
believe her!
I don't know when I finally fell asleep. Mom, I had a dream from God. An
angel of the Lord came to me. His words pulsated through my mind so
intensely I can remember them as if it were yesterday.
"Joseph, son of David," he thundered, "do not fear to take Mary home as
your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."
I couldn't believe my ears, Mom. This was the answer! The angel continued,
"She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus,
because
he will save his people from their sins."
The angel gripped my shoulders with his huge hands. For a long moment his
gaze pierced deep within me. Just as he turned to go, I think I saw a smile
on
his shining face.
I sat bolt upright in bed. No sleep after that! I tossed about for a while,
going
over the words in my mind. Then I got up and dressed quietly so I wouldn't
wake you.
I must have walked for miles beneath the moonless sky. Stars pricked the
blackness like a thousand tiny pinpoints. A warm breeze blew on my face.
I sang to the Lord, Mom. Yes, me, singing, if you can imagine that. I
couldn't
contain my joy. I told Him that I would take Mary and care for her. I told
Him I would watch over her--and the child--no matter what anyone said.
I got back just as the sun kissed the hilltops. I don't know if you still
recall
morning, Mom. I can see it in my mind's eye as if it were yesterday. You
were
feeding the chickens, surprised to see me out. Remember?
"Sit down," I said to you. "I've got to tell you something." I took your
arm and
helped you find a seat on the big rock out back. "Mom," I said, "I'm going
to
bring Mary home as my wife. Can you help make a place for her things?"
You were silent a long time. "You do know what they're saying, don't you,
son?" you said at last, your eyes glistening.
"Yes, Mom, I know."
Your voice started to rise. "If your father were still alive, he'd have
some
words, I'll tell you. Going about like that before you are married.
Disgracing
the family and all. You... you and Mary ought to be ashamed of yourselves!"
You'd never have believed me if I'd tried to explain, so I didn't. Unless
the
angel had spoken to you, you'd have laughed me to scorn.
"Mom, this is the right thing to do," I said.
And then I started talking to you as if I were the head of the house. "When
she comes I don't want one word to her about it," I sputtered. "She's your
daughter-in-law, you'll respect her. She'll need your help if she's to bear
the
neighbors' wagging tongues!"
I'm sorry, Mom. You didn't deserve that. You started to get up in a huff.
"Mom," I murmured, "I need you." You took my hand and got to your feet,
but the fire was gone from your eyes.
"You can count on me, Joseph," you told me with a long hug. And you meant
it. I never heard another word. No bride could hope for a better
mother-in-law than you those next few months.
Mom, after I left you I went up the road to Mary's house and knocked. Her
mother glared at me as she opened the door. Loudly, harshly she called into
the house, "It's Joseph!" almost spitting out my name as she said it.
My little Mary came out cringing, as if she expected me give her the back
of
my hand, I suppose. Her eyes were red and puffy. I can just imagine what
her
parents had said.
We walked a few steps from the house. She looked so young and afraid.
"Pack your things, Mary," I told her gently. "I'm taking you home to be my
wife."
"Joseph!" She hugged me as tight as she could. Mom, I didn't realize she
was
so strong.
I told her what I'd been planning. "We'll go to Rabbi Ben- Ezer's house
this
week and have him perform the ceremony."
I know it was awfully sudden, Mom, but I figured the sooner we got married
the better it would be for her, and me, and the baby.
"Mary, even if our friends don't come, at least you and I can pledge our
love
before God." I paused. "I think my Mom will be there. And maybe your
friend Rebecca would come if her dad will let her. How about your parents?"
I could feel Mary's tiny frame shuddering as she sobbed quietly.
"Mary," I said. I could feel myself speaking more boldly. "No matter what
anyone says about you, I'm proud you're going to be my wife. I'm going to
take good care of you. I've promised God that."
She looked up.
I lowered my voice. "I had a dream last night, Mary. I saw an angel. I
know."
The anguish which had gripped her face vanished. She was radiant as we
turned away from the house and began to walk up the hill together.
Just then her mother ran out into the yard. "Wait," she called. She must
have
been listening from behind the door. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"I'll get your father," she called, almost giddy with emotion. "We," she
cried as
she gathered up her skirts. "We," she shouted as she began to run to find
her
husband. "We ... are going to have a wedding!"
That's how it was, Mom. Thanks for being there for us. I'll write again
soon.
Love, Joseph
