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Joseph's Joy: The Family Man

By Betty Arrigotti

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“Who’s the new guy?” the supervisor of the manufacturing floor, Chad Wilkins, asked his assistant.
“Not a clue. Must be from the prison.”
“I doubt it. He’s got a different look about him, more relaxed.” Chad prided himself on being a good judge of character, a necessary skill for his job.
“Good worker, though.”
“Guess that’s what counts here.”
So went the conversation on a rainy spring day at the Transitions Furniture Factory. About half of the employees were work-release convicts who had earned enough trust to labor outside the state penitentiary from 9:00 to 4:00. Transitions sponsored a training program on the inside of the prison that gave men and women beginning skills toward becoming carpentry apprentices. The second stage of their training took place at this furniture factory. If all went well, when their sentence was up, or if they were released early, the employees from the prison could move to the Transitions Construction Center, where they lived and earned wages while they worked to qualify as journeymen by mastering skills for homebuilding. In time, they could be hired by local contractors on a probation-like agreement. If they stayed out of trouble, they could re-enter society fully capable of leading productive lives.
The supervisor passed several workstations on the manufacturing floor where employees joined pieces or turned spindles on a lathe. He approached the new man. “I’m the head of this section. I haven’t met you. My name is Chad Wilkins.”
“Nice to meet you.” The man, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, and sturdy work boots, straightened from his work and offered his hand. “I am Joseph,” he said with both confidence and gentleness in his voice.
He didn’t say more, and Chad didn’t ask for a surname. He was accustomed to employees not wanting to divulge much about themselves. “From the penitentiary?”
“No. Just here for some temp work. I heard Transitions can be understanding.
My papers are not complete, but my work can speak for itself. I am qualified.” He nodded at the intricate carving he had almost finished on the back of a wooden chair.
Chad was impressed. The chair Joseph was working on demonstrated unusually pleasing dimensions and curves. The etched roses and buds showed expert ability. He ran his fingers over the design. “Where are you from?”
“Israel originally, but I have wandered lots of places since then.”
That would explain the hard-to-place accent, Chad thought, as well as the dark hair and eyes. “What did you work on last?” Chad softened his voice as he asked, not wanting to sound like he was digging, though he was.
“I did a nice spiral staircase for a chapel in New Mexico. But usually I do custom furniture.”
Chad could see why. The man was clearly an artist. “I’ll let you get back to work, Joseph. Welcome. Glad to have you here.”
Still, it seemed strange no one had told him about hiring the guy.
***

The noon whistle blew and brought men and women outside from various buildings. Joseph hurried through the rain with them to a cafeteria. He joined about a hundred employees in line, who were quickly served hot mashed potatoes, roast beef, and green salad. The women took seats on benches along tables on one side of the room and the men on the other. Guards walked among the tables, not menacingly, but alert.
Joseph sat next to a young man who didn’t make eye contact and didn’t speak. His short hair was sandy colored, and his whole body exuded caution.
“I am Joseph. I am new here. Do we get charged for this meal? I have not been paid yet and funds are low.”
“No, it’s included,” the young man mumbled. Still no eye contact.
“That is a relief, thanks,” Joseph said. After a few mouthfuls he asked, “Do you like the work here, uh…?”
“I’m Devon.” Finally, Devon looked at him, as if sizing him up, and nodded. “I like the feel of wood in my hands. And the smell. I’m not very good at the craft yet, but I want to learn. I could really make something of myself if I get better at it.”
“You already have what it takes. I think anyone who likes the feel and smell of the wood can learn to create with it.”
“Thanks,” said Devon, offering a cautious smile. “I’m going to need a good job when I get out of here. This is a chance, and I haven’t been given very many chances.”
“Any advice for a new guy?” Joseph asked.
“Keep your head down. Be invisible.” At this, the young man followed his own advice and concentrated on his eating.

***

A few days passed. Chad often stood behind Joseph and watched him work. Joseph always greeted him with a smile and a nod but stayed focused. He, like his young friend Devon, loved the texture and the aroma of the wood. He’d been assigned to work on pine chairs, then oak. Today Chad had given him a set of eight cherrywood chairbacks to carve. The wood was cooperating nicely, and each now revealed a different songbird amid leaves and branches. Near the end of the day, Chad gave a low whistle as he visited Joseph’s work area. He then strode away and up the flight of stairs to where offices overlooked the manufacturing floor. He returned with a middle-aged man in a suit and tie who carried himself with confidence. His hair was dark and trim, and his face suggested intensity and intelligence.
“This is Joseph,” Chad said, “the guy I told you about. Joseph, this is Mr. Connor O’Brian, the owner of Transitions Furniture.”
Joseph stood, wiped his hands on his jeans and offered one to the owner.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” He met the owner’s eyes and smiled broadly.
Mr. O’Brian shook his hand but then studied Joseph’s carving. “I see what you mean, Chad. His work is quite impressive.” He turned to Joseph. “I’ve heard you are a temporary hire. Will you be here long? I’d like you to consider training some others in carving. Maybe even a class at the Pen if we can get the tools cleared. Would you be willing?”
“I would like that,” Joseph said. “It is a skill that takes time to learn, but I am happy to share what I know.”

***

Joseph’s first class took place at the Transitions Furniture Factory, rather than at the prison. The superintendent had vetoed the idea of the woodcarving class being added to the work skills program because of how easily a carving knife, chisel, or gouge could be concealed and used as a weapon. Even at the Transitions site, each student was carefully observed, and tools were checked in and out meticulously. Devon, who had finally told Joseph his last name was Price, and five others signed up for the class. When Joseph started them with butter knives and bars of soap, two dropped out. With four students left, Joseph was able to give each close attention and they all progressed rapidly.
After the introductory soap day, they carved faces in apples. Finally, each student received a basswood board, a pair of cut-resistant gloves, eye protection, and a fixed-handled carving knife. Joseph asked them to carve as perfect a wood cube as they could. From this they learned the feel of the wood under the knife and the differences of grain on each side of the cube. A couple of the students balked at the slow start, but Devon applied himself without complaint. When Joseph expanded his teaching to a class on lathe work, Devon was the first to sign up.
At lunch breaks, Joseph often sought him out and sat next to him. From this small act of friendship, Devon gained a bit of self-confidence and made eye contact more often. He began to sit and chat with others who, like him, tried to avoid trouble. Looking up from one such conversation, Devon noticed the carving teacher approach.
“Hi, Joseph! Have a seat. I was just telling these guys about our class. Maybe they’ll sign up next time you start it.”
“I would be happy to have you all start now. This is a temporary job, so I do not know how long I will be here.”
Devon’s shoulders sagged a bit. He didn’t want to see this gentle man go.
“But before long, Devon will be able to teach the class himself!” Joseph elbowed Devon gently, but the young man flinched involuntarily. Joseph offered him a look of understanding. After lunch they walked to the lathe-working class together.
“You have been hurt before,” Joseph observed with lowered voice.
“My dad was a mean man. I’m here because of him.” He cleared his throat. “No, I’m here because I made a bad decision. I should have left the room or the house or the state. But one night Dad hit me once too often, and I snapped. I slugged him hard. He fell backwards and hit his head on the table behind him. Broke his neck.” He cleared his throat again and sniffed. “I killed him. I didn’t mean to, but I did mean to hit him.”
“I am so sorry, Devon.” Joseph stopped walking and faced Devon. “I am so very sorry.” He placed his hand on Devon’s shoulder and this time Devon didn’t flinch. “That is why you are here?”
“Yes. I was sixteen but tried as an adult. The judge settled on manslaughter rather than murder. I’m grateful for that. And it hasn’t been horrible. I got my GED, my high school diploma, at the Pen and started the construction classes there. I’ve put in three years of my five and have been on this work-release for six months. If I keep my head and my temper down, in two more years I’ll be out and have a construction job waiting for me.” He shook his head slowly. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“Do you get visitors?” Joseph asked.
“No, I don’t even get letters. Family was just Ma and my little sister once Dad was gone. Ma can’t quite forgive me, I guess. All the work and parenting falls to her now. And my sister had a better relationship with my dad. He loved her and always treated her gently. She probably can’t forgive me either.”
“God can, Devon. He can and He does. He loves you, and He wept for you when you were being mistreated.”
Tears rose in Devon’s eyes, so he turned away from Joseph and headed into the building.

***

When Devon arrived at Joseph’s class the next morning, he seemed distracted. He even grazed his hand with the gouge and would have bled if not for wearing the safety gloves. The young man avoided Joseph’s eyes during class, but his instructor sat next to him at lunch and asked, “Is something wrong, Devon?”
“I’m okay,” he answered, but in a tone that he knew was unconvincing.
Both men ate their sandwiches in silence.
Finally, Devon turned to Joseph. “I got a letter from my kid sister. She was thirteen when I came here. Sixteen now. She’s pregnant.”
Joseph nodded. “I am sorry to hear she is so young, but praise God for the new little one. Will she have support?” It wasn’t the response Devon expected.
“The father has already dumped her, the jerk. Probably a good thing I’m in here. Not sure what I’d do if I got hold of him.” Devon straightened to stand taller, and he clenched his jaw.
“How old is he?”
Devon sighed. “He’s only sixteen, too.”
“Likely terrified.”
“Should be.”
“Young people make mistakes.”
The comment struck home, and he relaxed his bravado. “Yeah,” he said, his voice softer, “I sure did when I was their age, with awful consequences.” He took a few bites of his sandwich, then picked up his fork and moved his salad around without eating any.
“Your family has already dealt with so much. Is your mother strong? Will she be sympathetic?” Joseph asked.
“Dawn, that’s my sister, hasn’t told her yet. She’s scared Ma will throw her out.”
“Do you think she will?”
Devon pondered the question. “No, I don’t think so. Ma’s not strong. At least she wasn’t before I… Before Dad died. I guess maybe she’s had to be since then. She had the same thing happen to her, pregnant at seventeen. Her mother and father forced her to marry my dad when they found out I was on the way. She had no choice and got stuck with a man who couldn’t control his temper. Ma won’t let that happen to Dawn.” He paused. “I hope.” He had always felt that he, his birth, had caused his mother’s suffering with his father.
Devon set his fork down and leaned away from the table, though he hadn’t eaten any salad and only half his sandwich. “I should be there for them. I should be working to help support the family. Instead, I’m trapped here where I can’t do any good for anyone.”
“You are learning a trade. You will be ready to help when you are allowed to.”
Devon shook his head. “Two more years. Her baby will be born and probably adopted out by then. My niece or nephew, gone before I even meet the little one.”
Joseph took a deep breath. “I was engaged long ago. My beloved came to me and told me she was expecting a baby. I knew it was not mine. We had not been intimate.”
“Man, that’s awful. Did you break up with her?”
“I thought about it, but I could not. I loved her and she still loved me. We married, and I cherished that little boy as tenderly as if he were my flesh and blood. I grew up because of him. I learned to put my wife and him first, and I lived my life solely to take care of them and keep them safe. They were God’s greatest gift to me.”
“Were?” Devon expected to see sadness or anger in Joseph’s face, depending on what had happened to his family.
Instead, Joseph smiled and looked totally at peace. “That story is for another time. Let us get back to work.”

***

Over the next few days, not only the supervisor but O’Brian, the owner, would stop by Joseph’s class or watch between classes while he added his art to their furniture. He carved exquisitely, and his movements were much like those of an experienced dancer. From his words during class, it was clear Joseph gave God credit for his abilities, as well as the wonders of the woods he transformed. And the way he spoke of God wasn’t off-putting or pious. His students listened intently and so did Mr. O’Brian. Hearing him wasn’t like listening to a sermon in church. O’Brian had heard hundreds, if not a thousand of those, thanks to the insistence of his wife, and they never touched his heart the way this simple man’s talk did. It was as if God was Joseph’s close friend.
Joseph noticed him watching and set down his chisel. “Hello, Mr. O’Brian. How are you doing today?”
The tone in his voice made this a sincere question, rather than small talk.
“Fine, fine. Busy, of course, but it’s always worth it when I take a break to watch you work. I can always stay a little longer at the end of the day to catch up.”
Joseph chuckled. “Wives tend to take it personally when we are late for the dinner that they timed to be ready when they expected us.”
“No kidding!” laughed the owner. Only last night he’d argued with his wife when he came home two hours after dinner time. She simply didn’t get that everything he did at work he did for her and the kids. O’Brian sighed. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”
“My shop was attached to our home and the aromas that wafted into it always smelled too wonderful to ignore. She would bake fresh bread, and I would not even remember setting my tools down before I would find myself washed and at the table. Miriam could get me to come to eat as easily as that!”
Mr. O’Brian thought Joseph looked wistful.
“I have not had a home-cooked meal like hers in a very long time.” Joseph said.
He wasn’t quite sure why, but Connor O’Brian found himself inviting Joseph to dinner for the next night. He’d have asked him to come that night, but he wanted to give his wife time to make something special. He hoped she wouldn’t mind.
The 4:00 quitting whistle blew, and though most of his workers would leave, he still had a couple of productive hours left.
“Good work, Joseph! See you tomorrow!”
“Goodbye, Mr. O’Brian. God bless and keep you.”
O’Brian noted the kindness in Joseph’s face and looked forward to the next night. What an interesting man! 





NIGHT SHIFT

Joseph sat on a bench enjoying the cool evening breeze. A little girl, much too young to be alone in the park, wandered up to him.
“Are you a daddy?” she asked.
“I am,” answered Joseph. “Are you looking for yours?”
“Yes,” she said with a slight lisp, and then climbed up onto the bench beside him. She had dark curls, cheerful eyes, and the look of being well loved. “I asked Mama where my Daddy is, and she said he’s in heaven. So, I asked her what heaven looks like, and she told me to imagine my favorite place and it would be a hunnerd times better than that.”
“And is this park your favorite place?” Joseph asked.
Her eyes lit up, reflecting the walkway lights that had just turned on. “It is! How’d you know?”
“I am guessing you love the grass and the trees and the playground and the walks you must take here with your mama.”
“Uh huh.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t been here in the dark before. I don’t like it quite as much as daytime.”
“What is your name?”
“Didi.”
“Well, Didi, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Joseph. Your mama is right. Heaven is a hundred, or even a million times better than your favorite place. But it is not in this park, and I am afraid your daddy is not either.”
She sighed. “No, I looked for him, but I can’t remember what his face is like.”
“Why did you want to find him?”
“The other kids at daycare get picked up by their daddies sometimes. They talk about how their daddies play with them, and tickle them, and do things that make their mamas say, ‘Be careful!’”
“You feel like there is something missing, not having your daddy here to do things like that?”
Her next sigh was even deeper. She nodded.
“Do you know, Didi,” Joseph asked tenderly, “how very blessed you are?”
The child looked at him with doubt pursing her lips.
“You do have a daddy, and even though you cannot see him, he is watching you from heaven all the time. He loves you very much, and he asks the angels to take care of you now that he cannot. So, they do take care of you. They love you, too, and Jesus loves you a million times more. But you also have a mama who loves you and can take care of you and wants to keep you safe. In fact, I believe she is a little worried about where you are.”
Didi looked down at her toes. “I’m not supposed to go outside without her.”
“Would you like me to walk back home with you?”
“Yes, please.” She took his hand and slid off the bench. “I don’t want Mama to be scared.”
Together they walked towards Didi’s house, though she couldn’t remember her address. As they approached, they saw flashing lights parked in front of it.
“That’s my house,” Didi said. “I wonder why there’s a police car there. One visited our daycare once and blew the siren for us.”
“I would guess they are looking for a little girl about your size to take her home to her mama.”
When they neared the porch, they saw a police officer trying to calm a distraught young woman.
“Hello, Mrs. Jackson!” Joseph called.
Didi’s mother looked up and squealed, then ran, lifted, and hugged her daughter tightly, spinning her around. “Didi, you’re safe! What happened? Where did you go?”
“I went to heaven to find my daddy,” she answered very seriously. “I only found Joseph, but he’s nice, too.”
When Didi’s mother turned to thank him for seeing her daughter home safely, he had slipped away. The policewoman shook her head. “He was right here. Where did he go?”
“Back to heaven, I guess,” said Didi through a yawn.
 

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