In my bedroom sits a statue of Saint Joseph, husband to Mary and by extension, the legal father of Jesus Christ. It might seem ridiculous, but this little trinket has helped me quash the crippling anxiety I once felt as a young father.
Let me explain.
I was a nervous wreck for my first two years as a dad. My daughter was born in the summer of 2020, just a few months into the COVID-19 pandemic. At that time, many people (myself included) were worried about how deadly COVID might be and had less knowledge of how the virus might affect infants. Everyone was low-key panicking about how government-imposed shutdowns would affect their livelihoods and the overall economy.
Needless to say, it was a tough time to have a baby.
I also struggled with adjusting to everyday life as a father. Though I was once a generally calm and laid-back guy, I was constantly on edge after the baby was born. It only got worse as time went on and my daughter (who attended daycare) was continually getting sick with ear infections, respiratory viruses, and strep throat. If you have kids, you know what I’m talking about.
The stress of caring for her physical needs, being a financial provider, and trying to be a mindful husband and father wore down my body. I found it hard to sleep. One night I awoke from a tortured sleep and found myself in the midst of a panic attack. This wasn’t the first time, but this time I went to the emergency room with chest pains. Incredibly scary.
I complained to my doctor about digestive problems and acid reflux. Fatherhood, which brought me so much joy, seemed to be slowly killing me.
In the midst of my inner turmoil, the Holy Spirit was preparing a way out. Though I grew up Christian, I had essentially abandoned my faith as an adult. Then quite by accident, I was exposed to Catholic YouTube. The algorithm did something good for once. In my free time, I began watching lectures, interviews, and debates on theological topics. I read apologetical essays, a few works by notable Church Fathers, and whole books about the early Christian church. After months of study, my wife and I decided to convert to Catholicism.
I wasn’t looking for spiritual strength in the beginning. My conversion was purely intellectual at first. But as I went deeper into the faith, I discovered it was making a subtle, yet tangible improvement in my life.
My newfound faith also opened my eyes to a role model whose example would give me strength and comfort in the trials ahead–St. Joseph.
Of any father who ever lived, Joseph certainly had the most responsibility. God tasked him with keeping Mary and the Christ-child safe, in turn leading them to Bethlehem and then on to Egypt when King Herod threatened the child's life. As Jesus’ earthly father, it was Joseph’s job not only to provide Jesus with the basic necessities of life (no easy task in the 1st century), but also to teach him carpentry and how to pray and memorize the Scriptures.
Perhaps Joseph struggled with stress and self-doubt at times, but we have no record of it. The Gospel accounts offer us precious little information about his life, but one detail stands out…
Joseph slept.
An angel of the Lord spoke to Joseph four times in Matthew's Gospel, each time in a dream.
This might seem insignificant, but as any father knows, sleep can be hard to come by. Dads can easily keep themselves up working or lying in bed worrying about things beyond our control.
…investment accounts
…the job market
…war and peace
…which international trade agreements might impact home budgets
There are so many responsibilities, so many things to plan, and countless contingencies to prepare for.
If anyone was justified in being too anxious to sleep, it was Joseph. People were out to kill his infant son. He had to seek refuge in a foreign country, far away from everything and everyone he knew. Joseph probably agonized over the immense suffering that he suspected Jesus would endure in order to fulfill His mission as God’s son on earth.
But despite the immense pressure of his calling, Joseph still got sleep. He had faith that, no matter what suffering or uncertainty he confronted, God was in control.
Inspired by his example, I asked the Lord to help me become more like Joseph. I purchased his statue and put it on my bedroom dresser. Every time I look at it, I'm reminded that I can rest easy knowing that God will take care of us. He will pick up my slack if I trust in Him.
The Lord has now blessed me with a second daughter and a son. While my responsibilities are greater now, I worry less than I did before. I no longer have panic attacks. I pray daily, eat a (somewhat) healthy diet, and exercise regularly.
I sleep like a baby…until one of my actual babies wakes me up.
Oh and that statue of Joseph? He is lying on his side, eyes closed, fast asleep.
Tyler Curtis writes about economic policy, religion, and culture. His work has been featured in many outlets, including National Review, the Washington Examiner, and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
I appreciated this article not because of its faith aspects, which I liked, but because it reminded me of how I felt when my first son was born. Two things shocked me within the first half hour of his birth—first, the enormity of it. For the first time, I realized that this new child would be a part of my life for as long as I walked the earth. That was not too shocking as it was something I knew before his birth, even if I had not really thought about it, but soon after, his pediatrician came in, and something happened that did shock me.
The doctor was pulling his limbs every which way in a fashion that I, as an adult, knew would hurt me. I came within a hair of telling the doctor to stop it as I was sure it had to hurt. I can be pretty impervious to someone else's pain, but for some reason, I was outraged over the pain I thought my son, someone I had not met before, might be feeling. I still do not understand how that emotional attachment had already formed, but it was there, and it shocked me. He is 28 now, and the attachment has not declined a bit.
That attachment is something all men should experience, and I do not understand how any man could not move heaven and earth to spend as much time as possible with their children. In retrospect, I suppose it should have been obvious, but I was not expecting it, and it pleases me to this day.