Saint of the Week

Today is the Feast Day of St. Joseph (the husband of Mary).  Coming on the heels of St. Patrick's Day, St. Joseph's Feast, for many, is likely to slip by unnoticed.  I mean there is no green beer, no lucky charms (by the way, I got a good laugh from finding Lucky Charms in my mail box at the parish), no pots of gold; just a cold rainy March day . I spent this cold evening listening to the Fat Boys version of the "Twist" (repeatedly per my  8 year old) and alternatively dancing, throwing and blocking nerf balls with my kids until we were all redfaced and sweaty and our dogs were utterly confused.  My husband was at work.  His second job is teaching part time at a local university.  This semester he teaches on Monday nights.  He likes teaching, but I am sure that he would rather be at home with us (then again, maybe not),

but sending your kids to a Catholic school does not come with out its price. 

 

On our 10th wedding anniversary, I got my  Methodist husband a St. Joseph's medal.  He was, to say the least perplexed.  I explained to him that everyone needs a go to guy, and I believe that St. Joseph is his.  I see a lot of St. Joseph in him.  I could see that I needed to go further.  I said that the medal is a just a reminder, a visual cue.  It is not an amulet or a sin repellent.  I chose St. Joseph for you, I said, because of his faith and strength.  Silently he supported Mary.  Faithfully he followed God's will for his life.  Lovingly he raised Jesus.  He was committed to his family.  My husband smiled wide and said thank you.

 

In the Nativity movie, there is a scene where Joseph says that Mary's baby is his.  Because of that he is scorned by the community.  Joseph takes the hit in order to protect Mary.  That scene really got to me.

 

St. Joseph is not a little plastic statue that you bury in your yard for a quick sale.  St. Joseph is our protector.  I have a picture of him holding baby Jesus while Mary, in the background is asleep.  I love that.  This past fall, my daughter was Mary in the living Nativity.  After a few carols, her arms got tired so she handed "Jesus" to the boy that was Joseph.  I heard a woman in the crowd gasp.  I wanted to say "HELLO!"  Of course I didn't.  I smiled and thought, atta girl.  If you have ever read the novel, "The Book of God"  the book actually has Joseph helping in the delivery because no one else was around.

We can't say one way or the other to be sure, but the point is, he was a father, in every sense of the word.  The kind of parent we all would like to be.  The kind of parent we all ought to be.

 

I hear the garage door going up, my husband must be home now, I think that I will go and wish him a Happy St. Joseph's Day. (By the way, he converted last Easter).