An Unexpected Treasure at a St. Joseph Altar

(Some people are lit from within.)

We find what we seek. Sometimes, life transforms an experience into an extraordinary lesson in humanity and kindness. That happened during our annual visit to the St. Joseph Altars.

My son, a thirty-year-old man with Down Syndrome, accompanied me as I set out to enjoy my annual and sacred tradition of visiting St. Joseph Altars, two at nearby Catholic Churches and one by a devoted family.

If you have never been to or have never heard of St. Joseph, an Altar is something to experience, and all are welcome. The amount of work performed by those who make this commitment each year is remarkable. Their mission to honor Jesus’ “foster father” is something that I am very familiar with since the elder Sicilians of my family used to make the annual commitment.

I vividly remember receiving the white cake box filled with Italian pastries as a child. My young mind imagined that the oddly shaped and colored treats were magical, and I would eat them slowly and stare at them after each bite. The taste was not something I ever became accustomed to since we only received such treats on St. Joseph’s Day.

I still eat St. Joseph Altar cookies in the same manner, slowly and with intention. I now know they are (also) very special because they are blessed, As an adult, I understand the enormous amount of work involved in making them, and I know it will be a year before I enjoy them again. (Yes, some bakeries sell them year-round, but it is NOT the same!)

My son and I were moving through the family-hosted Altar when the matriarch began talking to us. She said, “He (my son) is such a blessing.” She hugged him and told me my family was blessed to have him. She touched his arm. He stood silently and received her attention. Her eyes were filled with kindness and compassion. I call my son a “Love Magnet” because he regularly attracts loving people, and she was one of those people who seemed to be lit from within, so the two were destined to meet.

As we were about to walk away, she asked if my son wanted a handmade blanket. She pointed to a basket on the floor with about a dozen uniquely colored blankets in individual plastic bags. She asked him, “Which one would you like?” He selected one and quickly placed it under his arm, an action that I understood to mean, “This is coming home with me!” I thanked her and offered to leave a donation for the blanket, which she refused because “It’s her ministry to make blankets for elderly in nursing homes who have no one, or for special people who will feel hugged when they hold the blanket.” I was overcome with gratitude and awe. People who give so selflessly amaze and inspire me. We made our way, reluctantly, to the door. This family is so faith-filled, and the Altar is so beautifully constructed that it’s difficult to leave quickly.

Upon returning home, my son immediately removed the blanket, brought it to his room, and laid it across his bed. He pointed to the blanket’s decorative cross and said, “Christ.” It was such a treasure for him to be gifted this labor of love. Still, it was more remarkable that we, by chance, had the opportunity to meet and speak with this lovely human whose devotion to Christ was evident in her labor, words, and especially in her kind eyes.

To learn more about the tradition of the St. Joseph’s Day Altar, visit

The Tradition of the St. Joseph’s Day Table| National Catholic Register (ncregister.com)