Welcome to “Between Noels: Part III”
Have you seen my alter-ego? I call her Eeyore, after the classic Pooh character: a morose, self-pitying donkey ever-expecting the worst. Think: forgotten birthdays, cold rain and sodden dejection. Thistles and limp balloons.
Lord knows, I’m a gloomster at times. Even at Christmas. When pessimism feeds on fresh dread and old disappointments, I take on the splayed, dug-in stance of those braying creatures in old westerns: mulish, stubborn, un-budgeable.
Turns out, my intel’s outdated. As are my assumptions.
Donkeys are intuitively sensitive to threat and actively protect one another.
They also safeguard livestock. Picture snapping teeth, sensational back-kicks deflecting coyotes and wolves.
Once, during Bible times, a donkey outwitted her stubborn master, who was so obsessed with his agenda that he missed the sword-wielding angel of God blocking their way! The stouthearted ass veered. Three times. Each time, her rider, blind to their shared peril, beat her with his staff. (You can read her cagey reproof in Numbers 22, roundly amen-ed by the angel.)
So here’s to God’s gentle, vigilant beasts of burden.
May I be more like them. Guide a blind herd mate to water? Oh yes. Transport what I’m called to carry without complaint? Only by grace. May I emulate the self-aware donkey, uniquely able to view all four hooves at one time, thus nimbly traverse deserts and crumbling mountain switchbacks.
Joseph’s donkey, perhaps going silver around the muzzle, carried Jesus to Bethlehem. A stranger’s donkey bore Christ through Jerusalem.
Joyous Noels and Hosannas can be lovely, optimistic, but fleeting. “Bear one another’s burdens,” Paul said, “and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
My default personality suddenly seems more promising. Still, lonesome blues will set in again, and sometimes, a feeling of doom. What do we do when heartache overwhelms hope?
Remember with me ancient Israeli families, commanded to sacrifice the firstborn male of all their flocks. The donkey, considered unclean, got a pass.
“Redeem with a lamb every firstborn donkey … ”(Ex. 13:13, emphasis mine).
A sobering, deep-down amen, to the perfect Lamb, once and for all sacrificed, in our place.
Friends, how has someone helped shoulder your burden lately?
Donkey Photo by Luis Palicio on Unsplash
Lamb, in enclosure Photo by Daniel Sandvik on Unsplash
These…
Old disappointments – ouch. Well put.
Transport what I’m called to carry without complaint? – B.C… Before Christ? Yup. And… Blame & Complain. I don’t like when I go there.
What do we do when heartache overwhelms hope? – learn to identify with/as the camel and donkey. Thank you for the image.
Bless you.
Rick, as ever, your identifying with lines and what births them into print encourages my soul as well as my writerly heart.
Thank you for reading so many posts in such a short time, especially during the holidays!
Grateful.
Blessings on you and yours!
“May I emulate the self-aware donkey.”
Okay, I love this prayer. <3
“Bear one another’s burdens.”
Thank you for this post, Laurie. I think in sharing this part of yourself you help others who relate feel less alone. This is important.
"Donkeys are intuitively sensitive to threat and actively protect one another."
I'm here for you. If you like, feel free to message me when feeling down. I care about you and will listen and pray.
You're such a jewel, Laurie. When I see your new posts come out I like to tell my family, "Laurie Klein released a new piece of writing today!"
But it's not just what you make, it's who you *are* that is precious. Someone vulnerable enough to share their heartaches as well as joys, and to spread real-life generosity of spirit to others. I'm trying not to gush, but truly—you are dear, and I'm grateful for you.
Dear Bethany, what a generous gift, your pledge and your presence here (and in my email life) as well as your listening ear and always thoughtful response.
I shall take you up on your offer!
I take to heart, too, your discernment and thank our good Maker for connecting us. Who knew—all those years ago in Indiana, when we nervously sat by each other to share a poem aloud with the group—that we would deepen into precious, albeit long-distance, mile-wise, kinship. I too am grateful!
Yes, please do take me up on it, my friend!
Oh my goodness, I was so nervous to share back then, but loved getting to sit by you and then hear and see your poetic expression. <3 Such a sweet memory.
I am so glad you braved it! A sweet memory, indeed!
I love this post because I know you so well. It makes me laugh that you would identify the Eeyore traits in yourself. Good for you! Once we recognize them, we are able to do something about it. I have a trait of fear of missing something. It’s laughable as well. I love you, my friend. Gena.
Gena, isn’t it funny, too, how much Eeyore annoys me when I read the Milne stories? Cuts too close to home. :>)
as to FOMO: Dear friend, you, by nature, bring a sense of PARTY time wherever you go. Except, of course, when the occasion calls for listening or shared tears, prayer or ministry.
I love knowing you!
Oh my goodness. Never have I read an Advent devotional or heard a sermon on donkeys!! These lessons you’ve culled from their traits and appearances in the Bible are wonderfully insightful, encouraging and challenging. Thank you, dear Laurie, for touching my heart once again, and inspiring a moment of worship!
I have had such delight learning more about God’s creatures. Thank you for joining me on the journey, friend! One more to come, for the last week of Advent. <3