Remember the story of how I told my dad I had volunteered him to provide the set for our school Nativity program--the night before? Well, I thought of him the other night as I decided to attempt to build my own manger for our family's Christmas. My dad had just spent two weeks here helping me (I use that term "help" rather loosely--yeah, he did most of it--I drove to Home Depot--but more on all that later, maybe even pictures) fix and build things for our new house. So, I was feeling pretty inspired in the building department.
But as I started building the manger my thoughts turned from my own father to another father. I thought of Joseph, a carpenter by trade, who, in anguish might have thought "I could make a beautiful cradle for this baby, maybe carve a cozy bed ," but instead had to borrow a manger from the local live-stock for the King of Kings to rest. I broke down in tears there in my saw-dust-filled garage, thinking about that humble father.
Jeffery R. Holland said, “I wonder what emotions Joseph might have had as he cleared away the dung and debris. I wonder if he felt the sting of tears as he hurriedly tried to find the cleanest straw and hold the animals back. I wonder if he wondered: ‘Could there be a more unhealthy, a more disease-ridden, a more despicable circumstance in which a child could be born? Is this a place fit for a king? Should the mother of the Son of God be asked to enter the valley of the shadow of death in such a foul and unfamiliar place as this? Is it wrong to wish her some comfort? Is it right He should be born here?
But I am certain Joseph did not mutter and Mary did not wail. They knew a great deal, had the help of the Holy Spirit, and did the best they could.”
This reminded me of a poem I wrote once about Joseph:
As Joseph walked those noisy streets
So many years ago,
And knocked upon door after door
I wonder, did he know
That he would find no place of rest
Except a stable bare
For Mary to lay down her head
With him alone to care?
As Joseph’s hands, so rough with work,
But gentle as the snow
Prepared a little manger bed,
I wonder, did he know
That in that bed he’d place that night
A new born baby boy
The king of kings, the prince of peace
To fill the world with joy?
As Joseph’s hands took Mary’s
While he held her all alone
As she brought forth her first-born son
Could he have really known?
That special baby’s tiny hands
Would one day heal blind eyes
And bless the sick, and cheer the weak
And cause the dead to rise.
Those tiny hands would one day bear
The scars that he would show
To thousands who would touch those hands
So each of them would know
That he was Christ, the Lord of Hosts
The Hope of all mankind
To strengthen hearts and cleanse the souls
And ease the burdened mind.
As Joseph rocked that tiny boy,
Christ’s hands around his curled
Yes, Joseph knew that his hands held
The Savior of the world.
So, my new manger sits on our fireplace hearth reminding us of Christ's birth. It reminds me, too of loving fathers like Joseph, and our Heavenly Father, and of course, my own father who has always worked so hard to make my family's life comfortable and beautiful. To help us remember the true meaning of Christmas we put a small pine bough in the manger each time someone does a good deed. Some days fill up better than others, but each bough is a gift, one that helps us think of the very greatest gift of all, our Savior, Jesus Christ.
