The Holy Family is travelling from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and we want to travel with them. We hope these letters, narrating the trip from St. Joseph’s perspective, helps all of us get ready for the journey, face the challenges that come our way, and, above all, prepare our hearts to welcome God, who makes Himself a Child for us.

 Download all six letters as an ebook: Joseph’s Journal (epub)

We are on the sixth day of the journey now. A storm forced us to delay our departure from Jericho when we went through the city. I think that was God’s providence: the most challenging part of the route begins tomorrow, and Mary needs rest.

Two opposing forces are at odds within me. On the one hand, there is weariness. We’ve been walking for days, and my body is starting to feel it. The constant worry of not knowing what awaits us in Bethlehem adds extra tension to the journey. And the weather doesn’t help either: the cold seeps into my bones. At times I wonder if I’ll ever be warm again.

On the other hand, I have a joyful kind of hope that sustains my spirit in a way that’s hard to explain. I’m walking beside Mary and the unborn Messiah. That certainty alone is enough to set my heart alight. Mary is smiling, and the star that has shone for us since Nazareth is guiding us in the sky, like a beacon of hope.

Maybe this tension is familiar to you. You know that God is with you, that it’s worth continuing to fight, that He is faithful to his promise and supports you at every step. At the same time, your hope is at war with intense exhaustion, the effort of trying and trying, and falling and getting up again without rest.

I talked to Mary about it, and she grew thoughtful. Looking toward the horizon, where the sun was setting and the darkness of night was beginning to spread across the desert, she said, “Sometimes our souls are like this landscape. There are lights, and there are shadows. The variety of shades is only possible thanks to the unification that happens within us. The shadows are part of the beauty of this sunset. And we can never forget that God sees the full picture.”

Her response calmed my heart. As always, she was right. It is just that, at times, the weariness of the struggle clouds my sight. Maybe it clouds yours too, on occasion. Believe me when I say we are very fortunate to have Mary by our side. As the Mother of God, she has the gift of seeing with the eyes of Heaven and, at the same time, with her motherly heart, she knows and fully enters into earthly realities. In this way, she is a true door of hope for all who wish to turn to her.

Travelling with us in the caravan is a family with two small children, who have grown especially fond of Mary. She tells them stories, talks to them about God, and explains how the world around us is the work of his creation. I am moved by the way she addresses them: with depth, yet using simple language that children can understand.

You may laugh, but I confess that at times I feel Mary speaks to me in that same way. There’s no sense of superiority about her. But she seems to understand that great truths are best conveyed simply. Moreover, I think God delights in what is small, because the unmerited nature of his love can be seen clearly in little things. Maybe that’s why He’s chosen me to be his father on earth.

Mary is beside me now, watching the star. I think she’s praying. In just over three days, we’ll arrive in Bethlehem. What awaits us there?