Blogger's Note: My bride and I are celebrating 20 years of marriage today.
He worked wonders with wood. Miters and joints so tight you
could scarcely see them. Sanded to liquid smoothness and pegged to perfection. When
the Spirit struck him, he could carve, too—with such precision and attention to
detail his eye seemed to see beyond the grain to the beauty within. In his hands,
the transformation from seed to sapling, tree to table seemed a natural
progression, a God-given purpose only he could unlock.
He was known in Nazareth as a hardworking and honorable man.
Rumor had it he was descended from kings. But he was quiet, mostly; humble and
discerning. He had an eye for wood, and for one girl, who was promised to God. It
seemed a significant obstacle. He lived alone.
Then one day, God moved. Specifically, He beckoned—calling
the unmarried men of David’s line to the temple, seeking a husband for this
most favored daughter. Joseph came as he was bade, sandals on his feet, a shaft
of wood, light and strong, in his hand. There she was. There he stood, one of several
silent men waiting, expectantly, for a sign. The priest conferred with her
parents.
God help me, he
thought, for her I would work such
wonders. But I am just a carpenter.
She raised her eyes and met his—met, and held. The staff in
his hand shuddered and creaked as green shoots sprang forth from the top,
unfurling into leaves and three soft white lilies.
Joseph’s gaze fell to the flowers above his trembling hand. The
others gasped and murmured in amazement: The
dead wood had bloomed!
Mary smiled. She was a woman, after all.
Labels: faith, Joseph, love, marriage, Mary, musings
