Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
A reflection on the Gospel of Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
Dear brothers and sisters,
It was Christmas Eve in a small town nestled between snowy hills. The streetlights glimmered on the dusting of fresh snow, and every window on Maple Avenue seemed to glow with warmth. Inside one house near the end of the block, Daniel—a father of three—was finishing the last of the Christmas decorating with his youngest, Anna, perched on his shoulders. As she reached up to place a paper star atop the tree, a sense of hope and quiet joy filled the room.
Daniel had always loved Christmas, but this year was different. Only weeks before, he had lost his job. The security they’d known was gone and the search for new work in their small town was slow. There had been anxious late-night talks with his wife, Grace—whispered concerns about the mortgage, the future, how they’d stretch what they had to make it through. Yet Daniel refused to let fear steal the joy of Christmas from his family. As those familiar Gospel readings filled their home, Daniel heard them with new ears. The story of St. Joseph, quietly leading the Holy Family to Egypt, called to him—not as a figure out of reach, but as a father just trying to keep his family safe and wrap them in hope.
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