Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Father


It was Advent.
Expectation, anticipation, anxiety,
A father’s heart slowly formed.

It was Christmas.
As my boy arrived,
My speech swiftly fled.
I was in awe,
Holding in my hands the beauty of the infinite,
Life and love incarnate.

With awestruck eyes,
I watch him with his mother.
Nurtured by her breast,
Warmed by her wistful touch,
Uniquely theirs, a bond I cannot share.

But I am there,
Present when he smiles,
Whispering when he whimpers,
Rocking when he’s restless.

My heart beats with the heart of Joseph,
Humble, faithful, righteous.
Content to nurture,
Even as my nurturing may be one day forgotten.

A priest after the Order of St. Joseph.

If a quiet, nurturing presence is all there ever is,
My God, that’s the best there ever will be.



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