It had started out well enough. An excellent match, her family thought. He was, first and foremost, a righteous man. And from a good family - a descendant of the line of David, no less. And, although he was certainly older than she, he was also well established in the community, with a good business and a nice home. And so she had accepted his betrothal, pleased to be the future wife of this tall, quiet man, this Joseph.
Then things had started to get a little odd. Actually, more than a little odd. There had been a visit from an angel. And then a pregnancy. And now here it was, nine months later, and she was on the road with Joseph, traveling to Bethlehem. It was tough going. She was very uncomfortable. Her back had been bothering her off and on for the better part of the day, and she couldn't decide whether it was easier to walk or ride the tiny donkey Joseph led. Still, she was reluctant to complain. He had been so kind, so understanding - waiting patiently each time she had to stop and rest along the way - but they were still shy with each other and didn't talk much. And now that they had reached their destination - much later than planned, thanks to all those stops she had been forced to make - there was no place left for them to stay. It was dark, the air chilly, and she could tell that, although he was doing his best to hide it, he was starting to get a little panicky. Finally an innkeeper, glancing over Joseph's shoulder to take in her tiny frame and enormous belly, took pity on them and offered them shelter in what was, no doubt, the last warm, dry spot in the city - the barn.
And so they settled, unloading what few provisions they had and making a place for themselves among the animals. It was one of those tidy stables, the stalls swept clean, with plenty of fresh straw on the ground. In fact, truth be told, it was probably better here than it would have been in the inn - it was certainly quieter. And she wouldn't have to answer any questions, nor talk to any strangers. That is, if she didn't think of Joseph as yet a stranger. He was, after all, her betrothed. But not her husband. Not in any important sense, at any rate. It didn't take long, though, once she had stopped the motion of traveling, for her to realize that, regardless of the fact that they had not shared a wedding night, Joseph was soon to be on very intimate terms with his new wife.
The actual delivery was blessedly quick. If she had been asked beforehand, she would have confessed to being frightened of it. Of course she had known women that had had a difficult time. She even knew some who had died in childbirth. It had been so always, since the time of Eve. But, like everything else in her life - at least since that angel's visit - she also knew that this was out of her control. There had been a moment of terror on her new husband's face, once he had understood what was happening. He had made to leave her, to seek help from a fellow traveler or the innkeeper's wife. But she - with a sudden confidence befitting her status - had grasped his hand and drawn him to her side, settling him with a smile and willing him to remain with her. And then, with a quick gasp, the Son was suddenly in the world. One moment she was with child, and then next moment the child was with her.
Once she had caught her breath, there were some other pretty astonishing moments. Amazing moments. Wondrous moments. She kept them all, carefully storing each in her heart. And through it all, wrapping each precious memory with those strong, calloused fingers, were Joseph's hands. Joseph's hands, tender and caring, as he swaddled the babe, the wobbly head dwarfed in his palm. Joseph's hands, strong and sure, as he lifted the child to its mother's breast. Joseph's hands, reassuring and loving, as he brought a wet cloth and gently wiped Mary's brow. Huge. Rough. Work-worn. Warm. Careful. Gentle. The hands of a carpenter. The hands of a man. The hands of her husband.
"But Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart."
- Luke 2:19
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