“The Little Donkey’s Journey” As told by the Donkey of Bethlehem

“The Little Donkey’s Journey”

As told by the Donkey of Bethlehem

The sun had just begun to set over the quiet hills of Nazareth when my master, Joseph, approached with a look of both worry and peace. “Easy now, little one,” he whispered as he placed a blanket on my back. “Mary must ride. Her time is near.”

From the doorway, Mary stood in a soft glow of evening light. Her face was serene, her eyes filled with faith. Even the air around her seemed touched by Heaven. When she smiled at me, I felt calm—though I did not understand why. I was just a small, gray donkey. Yet, I somehow knew this journey would change everything.

Joseph helped her carefully onto my back, his hand trembling as he steadied her. “We go to Bethlehem,” he said softly, “by the will of God.”
And so, we began our long road south.

The Journey to Bethlehem

The path was rough and winding. The days were hot, and the nights were cold. My hooves struck the stones rhythmically as Joseph led us mile after mile. Sometimes he hummed softly to keep Mary’s spirits lifted. Other times, we moved in silence, save for the whisper of the wind and Mary’s gentle voice reciting quiet prayers.

At night, we would rest beneath the stars. I would lie close, keeping watch while Joseph tended the fire and Mary sang softly to the child not yet born. Her voice carried into the darkness—pure and steady—and even the night seemed to listen.

Once, as I dozed, I dreamed that I saw a great light in the sky—like silver wings unfolding across the heavens. Angels—scores of them—singing softly in a language I did not know, but somehow understood. Their music filled the air like warm light, and I felt a peace that words could never describe.

No Room at the Inn

When we reached Bethlehem, the streets overflowed with travelers. Everywhere Joseph went, the answer was the same: no room.

Mary tried to reassure him, though her face was pale with exhaustion. “God will make a way,” she whispered.

At last, one kindly innkeeper saw our need and offered his stable—a simple place of wood and stone, with straw for warmth and a manger for rest.

Joseph thanked him, and together they helped Mary down. I found a quiet corner and lay near the manger, watching, waiting. The stars outside blazed brighter than I’d ever seen. One in particular seemed alive, burning like a promise above the stable roof.

The Birth of the Holy Child

Then, in the stillness of that sacred night, I heard the cry. Soft at first, but clear and beautiful. The Child had come.

Mary held Him close, wrapping Him in swaddling cloths. Joseph knelt beside her, his eyes full of wonder and tears. They laid the baby gently in my manger, where I had eaten from only hours before.

I lowered my head beside it. The child’s tiny hand brushed my nose, and I felt warmth like sunlight fill me from within. The stable grew quiet except for the faint breath of the newborn King.

The Angels Sing

Suddenly, the night outside erupted with light—brilliant, golden, glorious light! The sky itself opened, and a host of shining angels filled the heavens.
Their voices rose in music beyond all earthly sound—pure harmony, rolling like a river of stars.

“Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, goodwill toward men.”
I heard it, the shepherds heard it, even the earth seemed to hum with the melody. The shepherds, trembling and overjoyed, came rushing to the stable. They knelt beside the manger, whispering what they had seen in the skies.
The angels’ light faded into starlight again, but their song lingered in the air like a blessing.

The Shepherds’ Adoration

The shepherds brought simple gifts—wool, milk, and a lamb swaddled in cloth. They looked upon the Child with awe, their rough hands folded in reverence. One placed his hand over his heart and whispered, “He is the Savior… the Son of God.”

Joseph nodded silently. Mary smiled and said, “He came for all—rich or poor, strong or weak. Love has come into the world.”
Even I understood that truth. The manger no longer seemed an ordinary trough—it had become the cradle of Heaven.

The Little Drummer Boy

Some time passed, and visitors came and went, drawn by the star. One night, a young boy appeared at the door of the stable. His clothes were ragged, his feet bare, and he carried a small drum slung over his shoulder.

He bowed low and said shyly, “I have no gift fit for a king. Only my drum… may I play for Him?”

Mary nodded, her eyes shining. “Play, child. He will hear your heart.”
The boy knelt near the manger and began to play—a soft, steady rhythm that filled the air with innocence and devotion. The sound echoed gently off the stable walls. I swayed to the beat, and even the ox and lamb lifted their heads as though listening.

When the boy finished, the Baby smiled. I saw it—clear as dawn. The child’s eyes opened, and light reflected from them like the morning star. The little drummer’s tears fell upon the hay, but they were tears of joy.

The Three Wise Men

Soon after, another light came—not from Heaven this time, but from far off on the horizon. It was the flicker of torches and the soft steps of camels. Three men of great wisdom arrived, dressed in robes of color and gold.

They followed the great star until it rested above our humble stable.
Dismounting, they knelt before the child and laid their treasures on the straw—gold for a king, frankincense for divinity, and myrrh for the life and sacrifice that lay ahead.
They did not speak much, but the reverence in their eyes said everything. Even the heavens seemed to hold their breath.

The Journey to Safety
Not long after the wise men departed, I heard Joseph stir from sleep. He whispered to Mary, “An angel came to me in a dream. We must leave at once—Herod seeks to harm the child.”

And so, before dawn, we began another journey. The road to Egypt was long and silent. The stars dimmed as we crossed the desert sands. Mary held the child close, Joseph guided us faithfully, and I carried them as far as my legs could go.
Though weary, I never faltered. I carried not just a family—I carried the hope of the world.

Epilogue — Remembering the Miracle

Years later, when my coat had turned gray and my steps grew slow, I often thought back to that night—the manger, the angels, the boy with the drum, and the light that filled the stable.

I was only a humble donkey, yet I was chosen to bear the greatest gift Heaven ever gave the Earth.

And when the wind blows softly through the olive trees on a winter’s night, I still hear it—the faint echo of angel song, the gentle beat of a drum, and the tender cry of a child who came to bring peace, love, and joy to all mankind.