If you have read Thirty Days to Glory, you know about Catherine’s ritual of praying a blessing over the pieces of her nativity each year. I stole that from real life in our house. We followed this tradition for almost twenty years while our children were growing up. And, if you drop in this year while I’m arranging our nativity on the mantle, you’ll still hear me whisper…

Bless this donkey who carried Mary to Bethlehem and these animals in attendance at His birth. May they remind us to be humble in the glory of Your presence.

Everyone loves the donkey. His floppy ears. His gentle eyes. Those spindly legs and the sagging back, so frail to carry the heavy load of eternity-about-to-be-born. The donkey is the perfect symbol of humility at Christmas time.

But, he isn’t in the Bible, you know.

We can certainly assume the very pregnant Mary rode to Bethlehem somehow. It might have been on a donkey. Or,  it might have been in a cart behind an ox. Or, she might have walked. The writers left those details to our imagination. And that, dear Reader, is my point. It is fine to imagine.

I personally love the imagery of sheep, goats, cattle, and donkeys lying quietly near the manger when Jesus was born. It certainly could have happened that way according to the customs of the day. And the picture magnifies the truth that Jesus moved from Heaven’s glory to the poorest place on earth so He could be Emmanuel, God-With-Us.

I want to remember that. In the midst of all the twinkling lights and the lavish gifts, I want to remember the humble donkey. His floppy ears. His spindly legs. His less-than-lovely odor. And I want to remember that our destiny, yours and mine, rested that night on the King of Glory lying in a manger. Possibly surrounded by cattle who were lowing. (Which is the sound cattle make, in case you ever sang the second verse of Away in a Manger and wondered about that.)