An Ordinary Joe, N. Barry Carver [best short books to read .TXT] 📗

I am a mystery - even to myself.

I’m also either an idiot – or a clown.

How else could it be that I have come to this?

I stand out here, my teeth chattering from the cold. It is not the middle of winter, but it might as well be – in the threadbare clothes I wear. But, I just had to get out… to try to clear my head. On this, maybe the darkest of all nights, I’m wondering just which of my “blessings” has lead me so far astray.

How did I come to this? Am I not a just man? Have I not been peaceable, even-handed and kind?

And, still, look at me! I’m left like a beggar, stranded in a town I can no longer call home. When was there work that I was too proud to take? Has it ever gotten me more than bread money? “Getting ahead” has been completely replaced with just keeping debtors paid. What sort of life is that for a man?

And what of her?

I could not blame her if she ran off this night – this cold, sharp night – where the stars cast so clear a shadow that I can see it mocking me. She depends on me, and in this too, I can provide little better than a street to sleep on. I see the looks we get. “Homeless,” they mutter as we pass. “Trash” or worse they must be thinking. She thinks of me as an artisan; a master of woodworking, but I am nothing more than nails and splinters. I am a builder of boxes and tables. Only citizen enough to pay taxes!

Look at these hands… dirty, empty, and useless for the task ahead. How does she dare to hold them? The only thing I’m good for is to stand out here in the cold – out of the way.

Here in the depth of uncertainty, in a hard-bitten town, on a cold, bleak night – as hopeless as man can be – in this night she tells me the child will come. Why here? Why now? Why have a child at all in these miserable times? All questions are swept aside as this man of splinters is cast as father. How can I hope to feed and rear a child when I can barely provide for her?

I know how others must see me. It doesn’t help that the child isn’t mine. My family must think I’ve gone crazy – and maybe I have. I have honestly considered divorce – it might just be easier for all concerned. But, even though I see the hard, hard road ahead, I... and this is the telling part... I cannot walk away from it. My pride, my faith, whatever it is that I’ve learned, all that I am, leads me to this one night and one future and, except for this moment of self-pity, I am glad to bear it. Because, more than any other reason, I do love her and that will balance anything else. If love is to overwhelm fear, caring to defeat cynicism, hope overturn tyranny – none of which is certain – the potential of that sort of redemption is worth ignoring the odds, setting aside logic and giving it every last drop of my faith.

If I can just believe that deeply enough then, perhaps, I am worthy to parent a child.

Let me not be written down for a single thing. Let my works be dust before the sun rises. Let anything I achieve be erased and no record of my passing be made but this one:

I am Joseph, a carpenter, and a man grateful to be loved by she who, tonight, becomes the mother of God incarnate.

Text: @ NBC 2012
Publication Date: 12-10-2011

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