Bubba has a knack for poetry that he never lets on about all that often; but, Christmas is a good time to do so. I will let him speak for the both of us in the lines below. Ya’ll have a very merry Christmas, ya’ hear?
A middle-aged man slumps against the doorpost,
Glancing back over his shoulder at the baby and child
Before turning his gaze skyward, staring blankly at the stars
As he thinks and wonders, “Is it true? Is he the one?”
Sliding down the wall, Joseph settles on his heels,
Keeping balance with the walking stick in his hand,
He remembers his dreams and Mary’s visions
and finds his heart arguing with his head and his tradition.
Against all reason, he believes her. Not the angel, not the dream, but her.
Though he has not known her long, he knows her well,
And has decided that the lie is not within her.
The angel did come. She “knew” no other.
He arises from the ground, and goes in to her.
The cave is dark and damp, warmed and lit by a tiny fire.
Mary looks up from feeding the child
And with her eyes invites him to touch.
Joseph lays his hand upon the boy’s head
And discovers that he is praying.
“This child is a gift and I will do my best to care for him and his mother.
I trust you, O Eternal One, to care for all of us.”
By Delmer Chilton