The steeple of the town church was just barely visible over the horizon, about five miles away. That was as far as Giuseppe was allowed to venture on his own. He stopped in the middle of the dirt road, staring out towards the hills beyond, and waited.
The first sun had set a little over three hours ago, and now the second one, further and dimmer, was dipping ever closer to the horizon. A cold wind was blowing from the south, stirring the fields of dry grass and making them look for all the worlds like a beige ocean, waves crashing and white caps shimmering in the waning light. The air was pregnant with the smell of straw.
A shiver caught Giuseppe off-guard. Now that he had stopped, he was beginning to cool off. The antarctic breeze made the small rivulets of sweat feel as if they would freeze to his skin.
The wind carried with it the deep bong of the church bell, sounding the evening Angelus. Giuseppe turned around to look.
You could go back, a whispering voice as cold and subtle as the wind said to him. Papa would understand.Read the rest here.
To love is to wish to be united with the beloved, to want to share in the life of the beloved: in his happiness, sorrow, joys, and trials. To love God is to want to partake of the divine life. To love Christ is to desire to be crucified with him. When Our Lord deigns to share his cross with us, it is because he has accepted our love for him, and wants to draw us in to deeper unity with him. What a joy it is, then, to suffer for God!
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