It stayed there on the table as he shut the door.  Joseph gently wiped a tear from Mary's cheek.  "It will all be there when we return," he said as he lifted her onto the donkey and then lifted the pack with their belongings.

          "Couldn't we wait a few days, Joseph?  The baby will be here any time."  "Come now, Mary, we must go."  Joseph was gentle but firm.  He was ready for the journey, but she was not. "We've waited for the baby as long as we dare.  We must leave today or we'll face arrest for not appearing in Bethlehem in time for the census."

          "At least bring the cradle, Joseph," she pleaded.  "I want the baby to have something nice."  "It is too large and so it must remain.  The child will rock in it when we return."

          Joseph tugged hard at the donkey's halter. "Come, animal," he urged, finally slapping it gently on the rump to get it moving.  Grudgingly the small beast responded with plodding steps and followed him.  With one hand Joseph led the donkey, their goods bundled on his own back and carried by a strap tied around his forehead.  With the other he steadied Mary as they went.  Slowly but surely they moved on the road towards the Jordan valley and on down to Bethlehem.  Their village and small house were soon far behind, the house where the new cradle lay.

          Night after night the aroma of fresh-cut wood had filled his shop as he patiently fashioned its frame and sides with the tools he usually put down after work.  He had found a dry sycamore tree and sawed its trunk into slabs.  Those he planed flat for the sides and runners.  Joseph fastened the pieces together with small wooden pegs.  It was a well-made cradle, and he wished, even more than she, that their newborn could have slept in it.

          When Mary had told him of her expected child, Joseph had not taken the news well.  He felt a bit ashamed recalling his anger at her that morning.  As a respected but faithful man of Israel, he should have known this was God's doing.  But it took an angel to convince him.  Such is the way of men, he thought.  We must be shown.  We trust facts and instincts, but in this case, mine were wrong.  Good thing they were, he thought with a slight shudder.

          Joseph was into his twenty sixth year, some ten years older than Mary.  He had apprenticed as a builder at age twelve, and had become a good one.  He and other builders found steady work at Sepphoris, the new Roman villa being built forty furlongs north of their small village.  Nazareth had a few less than 400 people living there from five clans.  Their ancestors had settled there two hundred years before after returning from captivity in Babylon.  Most of the returning Jews had continued further south, but some of the first families settled there west of the Lake Galilee area where there was sweet water, a defensible position and good land.  Joseph's father had been a builder also, and though it was hard work, builders seldom lacked an income.

          The first settlers had named their village "Nazareth" from the olive tree branch.  As devout Jews, they trusted the prophecy in Isaiah 11 which said, "A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit."  "Nezer" was the Hebrew word for "branch", so they named their little village, Nazareth, "Branchtown", the place where the Messiah would be born.  And they believed it would be so.  And so every boy child born there was greeted with the words, "Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect another?"

          Joseph and Mary were married after a small ceremony and a meal with family.  She had moved into his house, and late into the night as she slept, he had begun making a special gift for her and the coming child, a cradle of sycamore.  It would bless the tiny child with sleep and help her with her work.  He had designed it with curved runners and a place for her foot so she could rock it while she sewed or spun.  He had carved small animals in its headboard, and had made some small toys to hang from its half-cover.  It was a good cradle, but now it sat on their house as they journeyed the 600 furlongs to Bethlehem.  He, too, felt sadness that their infant would not sleep in it at birth.

          Eight weary days later, Joseph's eyes quickly searched the small cave stable where they had come behind the Bethlehem Inn.  Mary's time had come and there was no time to waste.  He ducked his head as he spread the fresh straw for her to lie on.  An extra lamp was there, and as he lit it he was careful to keep straw from falling into its flame.  He helped Mary lie down next to the ancient stone manger, cut from the limestone wall.  He scraped the flat stone as best he could.  "We will make do with this," he said to Mary, but she did not hear him as another birth pang overtook her.  He held her hand and patted the sweat from her brow with a cloth.  Now it was time for God's miracle of new birth.

          Two jars of water stood by the wall for their use, and she had told him what to do.  But this would be a self-birth.  Hebrew men were kept from doing too much, and Mary, young as she was, had been thoroughly schooled in giving birth by herself if need be.  Joseph mopped her brow again and filled the stone manger with an armful of fresh dried grass, and then covered it with his outer garment to keep the animals away.  The sun had just gone down, and he thought of the new cradle.  How nice it would be to have it here now.

          It was well past midnight, nearly the first watch, as Mary washed her newborn son and wrapped him in soft, clean cloths.  She handed him to Joseph who lifted him gently into his new bed of hay.  Their son, God's son, now lay in a feed bunk.  Joseph sat down by Mary and put his arm around her.  She was soon asleep, and so was he.  Just before dawn, as the stars were their brightest, strangers approached the cave, a few shepherds.  Angels told of a newborn king, they said.  A new child was born, and they praised God for him.

          As they left, Mary touched the tiny fingers.  "The new cradle would be so nice right now, Joseph.  It was made for a king."  "But the shepherds spoke of a babe lying in a manger, not a cradle," he said smiling at her.  "But a cradle would be a finer thing for him.  Not every boy has a carpenter for a father," she said.  As Mary dozed again, Joseph wondered.  What does this all mean?  If this child is so great, then why a stable?  My carpenter's home is poor enough.  And why here in Bethlehem?  Why not Nazareth, our village of the Messiah?

          "Did you know the prophet Micah said it would be so?"  Mary was awake again. "'But you, Bethlehem of the region of Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.'  God has ordained this place for our son.  What will we call him, Joseph?"   "We will give him the name the angel gave us - Yeshua, deliverer, the one who will save."

          The morning sun was coming over the hillside as the Innkeeper's daughter entered.  She placed food beside them on a ledge as they stirred from sleep.  Gazing at the infant, she said, "He is handsome.  May God be praised," and then smiled at the mother.  "Blessed are You, O Lord, for giving us this place," Mary prayed aloud as the daughter left.

          In the days that followed that miraculous night, Joseph and Mary no longer mentioned the new cradle.  Their time was filled with more pressing things.  Joseph found them a small room to stay and began work making repairs after Bethlehem's population returned to normal.

          Weeks later, Magi visited them and gave expensive gifts that supplied their needs.  As if this were not enough, an angel warned them in a dream to flee to Egypt, for Herod was coming to kill the child.  So they travelled again, this time weeks, not days.  It was a year before they finally returned to Nazareth, and the child was walking, now too old for Joseph's cradle.  But it was useful later when the Lord blessed them with other children.

          Many years later, as the nearly-grown Yeshua was lifting the old cradle onto the work bench for repairs, he asked, "Father, did mother rock me in this cradle as she did James and Judas?"  "No, son," he said.  "This cradle was not good enough.  God gave you a stone manger."  "But why was stone better than this fine wood God provided?"  Jesus was puzzled.  "God had a greater plan, in a greater place, with a better cradle - your mother's arms!"  Joseph grinned as he sat down.  "God's ways are the best ways - you must learn that well."

          "Thank you, father.  Thank you for making me this cradle."  And Joseph smiled at the young man.  Yes, he thought, God's ways truly are the best.

Copyright © 2005 by Pastor Bob Tasler.  All rights reserved.