Authors: Marjorie Holmes
He lifted her chin and gazed into her stricken face. Outside a cock crowed, signaling the coming day. The darkness was lifting, the room emerging from the shadows. Through the chink above them a pink glow began to bloom. And it seemed to Joseph that he knew now why it had been his fate to love Mary— perhaps with a greater love than man has ever been asked to give a wife. For that love was akin to the love personified in the child:
Sacrifice.
God so loved the world that he would give up his own son. And that son, that poor doomed son ... he too would love the people in it so much that he would be willing to give up his life.
To suffer that others may live, as Mary had suffered in birth. To deny oneself for those who are dearer to us than life. That is the true union of those who love. And that—that in the end was what would bring man back to be united with his God.
"I love you, Mary," Joseph said. "This child is truly a child of love, sent to us because we love each other so much. And the home that we will make for him will be one of love. Remember how you once told me that? Our love will help us, my darling. It will enable us to grow together in courage and strength, so that we will be worthy of this great blessing that has come to us in this stable in Bethlehem. Worthy of having him entrusted to us, for even a little while."
Mary nodded, though her eyes were wet. Bending her head, she kissed Joseph's rough hand. Then she arose and set about getting the morning meal. For it was daylight now, and they had a long, long journey ahead of them.