A table is blessed by a priest presiding over a statue of St. Joseph. A stalk of lily blossoms, votive candles and a lace tablecloth are used to decorate the feast table. All are invited to partake of the traditional meal of pasta with a meatless sauce, fish, St. Joseph's egg bread, and Italian pastries. Optional donations are given at the table and given to the poor.
Keep in mind this is an open house, free food for friends, family, and strangers.Can you imagine the amount of food that had to be made? Our backyard looked like a fair. And as a child, I HATED IT. I thought it was boring and more importantly, I didn't believe in praying to him.
Then, like all of us, I had a year of holy hell. I prayed to God, to Jesus, and nothing. He wasn't listening.
How could God allow this to happen to me? I had done nothing wrong! My mother kept reassuring me to have faith. I didn't, not anymore.
A few months later, my mother took me to the Sons of Italy for the Feast of St. Joseph on March 19th. I almost laughed out loud, but again, to please her, I attended.
The feast table was massive and in the middle was the largest statue of St. Joseph I'd ever seen. I mocked it. I talked to it disrespectfully, "I don't believe in you. But I'll make you a deal. You answer my prayers and I'll honor your day for the rest of my life...but ONLY if you give me some kind of tangible proof."
On March 19th, the following year, all my prayers had been answered. And believe me, they were massive requests. Since that time, he's been gracious to answer many more of my prayers: for my husband to find employment, for my step-son's healing, and for countless of other requests for my friends and family.
He denied me once in 2009. And I'm still praying.I can't believe only when everything is going my way. It's my turn to prove my faith to him.
This year I'm celebrating my 35th year, hosting the feast of St. Joseph. Join me if you can. March 23, 2014 and RSVP me.
It never hurts to believe in miracles.
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