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 that
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
