J
oseph’s thoughts were of a different genus. He was not caught up in the rapture of fatherhood. His musing took a more practical direction. He had protected Mary from the awful news of Herod’s slaughter of the male babies in Bethlehem. How many had there been? He did some mental calculation. It could not have been more than fifteen or twenty children, he thought. This does not make it more acceptable, nor does it ease the horror of the event in the least. But that beast of a monarch could just have easily included the whole of Jerusalem. It did help Joseph to put the event in perspective.
He had labored hard through the day in the shipyards of the Nile. Building ships did not tax his skills as much as creating wooden furniture for the homes of the wealthy, but it brought in an income. While he still had the wealth of the gifts of the Magi, he did not want to squander it by not working when there was work to be had. So, he worked and at night, he joined Mary and the child in the home where they stayed, exhausted but feeling good. Life here was not unpleasant. Sated with wine and good food, sleep came easily and sweet. The Egyptian night crept into wee hours. The moon slid down the western sky and disappeared into the horizon.
“Joseph.” A familiar voice. In the periphery of his consciousness, he knew what was happening.
“Joseph, it is time. He that sought the young child’s life is dead. Arise, and return to your homeland.”
It was as simple as that. He did not get up immediately. He lapsed into a deeper slumber and did not open his eyes until the day was several hours old. Mary and the babe were still asleep. His place at the shipyards would be empty that day. There would be no pay. It didn’t matter. Gently he stroked his wife’s hair until she smiled and fluttered her eyes. They were a deep, sapphire blue. Joseph’s were brown, his skin tawny, his face handsome, ruddy and well defined, his beard well groomed. She reached for him, wetting his hairy chest with her milk.
An angel, unseen in the shadows, smiled.
