Thursday, February 10, 2011

*BEST OF DTB #60* As I imagine him

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My name is Christie Martin. I'm a new blogger to Deeper Truth Blog. I'm a wife and mother on fire for the Church that Christ built. I blog over at the Garden of Holiness. I'm a convert from the Church of Christ via Neo-Paganism. I'm also a homeschooling ex-schoolteacher with 5 children ages 7 and younger by birth, fostering, and adoption. Besides all that I raise goats for milk and cheese, cook up a storm, play the banjo (there, I've admitted it publicly at last!), and direct the a capella choir at a great little church in Amarillo, Texas. 

I thought you might like to get to know me better before I start contributing regularly, and now that you know more than you ever thought you'd care to know, here's a repost on one of my favorite saints, a personal friend of mine, and a fellow foster parent. St. Joseph! In this build up to the holiday that seems to be more about selling flowers and chocolates and sappy cards, I'd like to present a man who really knew how to love. St. Joseph, ora pro nobis

As I imagine him... 

...he wasn't much to look at. Other than very nice arms, arms like small trees in fact, he was an ordinary guy, the kind of man that until you met his eye, you might never notice, and then any woman might be in danger of falling in love. We like his style of man, quiet and normal. Homey.

We have no written record of his words. Proof he was one of those strong silent types, a man who talks more with his eyes and with his actions than mere words. When the angel said Mary's son was God's own and to marry her anyway, he did. When the angel said the child was in danger, he left that very night. He spoke like that. "I'll love you anyway." "I'll take care of you."

I imagine him, working away in his shop as Jesus brings home fallen fledglings, motherless kittens, and stray mutts. Watching quietly as the boy cares for them, explaining how to pet and care for the little wild things, then pouring water and scraps into their bowls after Jesus falls asleep at night. I imagine him taking care of all of us other strays that Jesus has brought in, caring for and praying over us, too.

I can imagine his struggles with ordinary and family-style sins: impatience, bouts of minor pettiness. I can imagine, too, being the only person in the house capable of such failings, and facing divine forgiveness in his foster son and perfected understanding from his pure and human wife. I'd be tempted to despairing thoughts of worthlessness in the face of more perfection than I was ever capable of. How must it have been to be a sinner among such a pair? I'll bet that's what made a saint of him.

Joseph and I have fostering in common and he helps me in this. I've often appealed to him to speak to Jesus about one of my foster children or even to ask Jesus for comfort when I struggled with giving a foster child back again. I ask him to especially and eternally to pray for those ones.

I ask him, too, to pray for my husband during those dry spells of marriage, to look out for me as a spouse, to teach me how to be imperfect with grace: God's grace.

To me, he is the patron of ordinary guys, ordinary people. He is the first among us to reconcile himself and his life to the Word Made Flesh. He has a lot to say, in his quiet way. Do. Work. Love. Look, how extraordinary the ordinary.

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