“Sing of Mary, pure and lowly:

“Virgin mother, undefiled.

“Sing of God’s own Son, most holy,

“Who became her little Child.

What about Joseph? Shall we sing of Joseph? Jesus was God’s own Son. Jesus was Mary’s little Child. And she was the pure mother. Still, God knew they needed Joseph. Or, perhaps He knew that we would need Joseph.

As she traveled far from home on a donkey, great with Child, did she lean on him? Did she trust him, the man to whom God entrusted both mother and Babe? So often, Christmas carols bring to mind the mother and the Child. Lately, though, they call to my mind someone else. I think of the man who was father to Christ and husband to Mary.

One strong man. I see his hands, sure and able. He is a carpenter, a craftsman, the capable, skilled provider so needed by both mother and Babe. God clearly was working beyond the bounds of nature when the Holy Spirit came upon a virgin and the Son of God was conceived. Even under those extraordinary circumstances, God, in His wisdom, gave Mary a husband and Jesus a dad. I think He knew how much dads bring to a Christmas story. Indeed, I think He wanted us to know how much dads bring to every birth story and every family’s story.

Nothing is more counter-cultural than the story of Joseph. Television and movies love to portray the family man as a bumbling idiot. Think about how often Dad messes up and it’s Mom (or the kids) who comes to the rescue and teaches him a lesson. That is not my reality. In my world, Dad is strong and steady and mostly wise. Admittedly, I live in a blessed world and modern family statistics do not reflect the biblical model. This is a short column. I could write volumes about absent fathers and splintered families and forgiveness and redemption. I‘ve lived that, too. Instead, in this short space, I am focusing on intact families.

In the biblical world, Joseph led Mary to the safe shelter of the stable. He was there to ensure that Jesus was safely born and carefully nurtured despite formidable challenges of the “birthing inn.” And he led them safely into Egypt despite overwhelming obstacles. When safely home in Nazareth, we know that Joseph provided a home for the family. He spent hours teaching his craft to Jesus, no doubt tangibly mentoring. He was husband and father.

For so many years, I had a baby or was expecting a baby during this time of year. Christmas was so much about the baby. The empathetic meditation of Mary on her journey or Mary near the manger came easily. I could feel being heavy with child. I could feel fear and exhaustion. I could feel the tenderness a mother has for her new baby. Now, my babies are growing and my perspective is changing. I see many layers in the Christmas story. I see the richness it holds for family life. My children keep me busier than ever, yet, when the crèche is lit and lovely in my living room, I find myself thinking more and more about Joseph.

I see Mary gratefully being lifted down from the donkey, sinking a bit into his warm strength. I see her trusting him when he tells her that whatever lies ahead, they will face it together, with God as their guide. I see her knowing that he will be there, come what may, to help her do the unimaginable and raise the Son of God. Did she reach up and hold his face in her hands and know the comfort that comes with looking into the eyes of someone who shared miracles with her? There is a tenderness that comes with living life in a family as husband and wife — a tenderness that we see as we look upon the familiar Nativity scene with fresh eyes.

It has been said that the greatest gift a man can give his children is to love their mother. One must agree; that’s quite a gift. And what is the greatest gift a wife can give her husband? During a season so focused upon children, so consumed with creating “magic” for little ones, can she spend some time in prayer, contemplating the real miracle of marriage and genuinely thanking God for the gift of her husband?

In a world that pulls on families and tugs with commitments, in a life that is often focused almost solely on children, can the heart of the Advent mother look toward the great gift of a husband? Can she see the blessing of a provider, the strength of the gentle man in her own smelly stable? Will her children know that she loves their father? Can that be the great gift this year? God didn’t overlook the detail of the man at Mary’s side. He could have designed the Nativity scene very differently. But He chose a holy man of quiet strength and steady wisdom. He blessed the Holy Family with a dad.

Foss, whose website is elizabethfoss.com, is a freelance writer from Northern Virginia.