When my dad got out of the Navy and returned to home ground in Alabama, he bought a small farm and added a few cows. That farm grew to a sizable cattle operation, and other animals were added, such as horses and my mother’s favorite, a donkey named Jenny (a common nickname for donkeys). As teenagers, my sisters and I had the opportunity to ride horses over most of the property, but no one ever rode Jenny. If you get the idea that she had a personality more like a mule, you would be correct.
Fast forward a number of years to a Christmas time when my sisters, our husbands, and our children gathered at my parents’ house for Christmas. One of the things on the agenda for the evening was visiting the live nativity scene at my parents’ church. That evening we loaded up into a couple of cars and rode down to the church. There on the wide lawn on the side of the church building was a life-size wooden shed, and to its side was an animal enclosure. That was a new twist to this tradition. In the enclosure, were sheep, cows, and there was even a donkey. Our children practically tumbled out of the cars to study the people representing the holy family and visitors who came to see the Christ child that holy night. Then they saw the animals. My mother quietly said, “Do you recognize our Jenny?” Our farm manager had loaded up the donkey and brought her to the church to participate in the reenactment of the nativity, and she behaved as if she knew this was a holy moment for all of us.
I hope Mary’s donkey was more gentle than the farm’s, but for one moment in time our Jenny was a sweet representation of that donkey who had carried a young, pregnant woman to Bethlehem where she gave birth to our Savior.
–Angela Baker
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