God Loves Donkeys

by Donna Poole

God Loves Donkeys

by Donna Poole

You won’t think it’s funny without a little backstory.

Our kids grew up in the home of a conservative Baptist preacher; that would be my husband. In the same way the mayor in the Music Man wanted his daughter to watch her phraseology, John wanted our kids to watch theirs. Certain words were taboo. I won’t list those words here, because unfortunately or fortunately John reads my blog.

We were driving down the road one day when our eldest exclaimed, “Look at that ass!”

Her younger brothers, who often found reason to laugh at her and always made her furious when they did, howled with laughter.

“What? All I said was look at that ass!”

She pointed at a donkey in the field.

Trying to stop laughing, one of her brothers said, “We don’t say ‘ass’ in this family, and you should know that by now.”

“What’s wrong with the word ‘ass?’ It’s in the Bible!”.

She had a point. The word ‘ass’ is found 436 times in the King James, and that’s the version she grew up reading.

Her dad managed to keep a straight face, told her brothers to stop laughing at her, and suggested donkey was a more appropriate word.

The family I grew up in was all about appropriate words.

We didn’t speak Italian, but we all called my Italian dad “Chooch.” He called my sister, Mary, “Little Chooch.” A pastor who did speak Italian visited us one day and looked shocked when he heard us using that word.

“Do you know what that word means, Dominic?”

Dad laughed. “I know.”

 “Ciuco” is the Italian word for donkey but also the other word no one used in my home growing up! I don’t think Mom knew the word’s alternative use, or she would have shut it down faster than she slammed a door to keep flies out.

In my home if you even thought a bad word, Mom somehow sensed it, and out came the bar of soap. I can’t remember if the soap was Dial or Zest, but Mom never dialed it down and she had a zest for using it! Not only did she wash out our mouths at the merest hint of a bad word she made us bite down on the stuff, and we weren’t allowed to brush our teeth afterward. It wasn’t even a clean bar; it was the one everyone used to wash their hands! That’s what Mom thought of foul language.

Mom was nothing if not consistent, so you’d think the threat of biting that disgusting soap would have cured us from bad language for good, wouldn’t you? You’d think…. Remind me to tell you a few stories another day about a song I sang to Mary whenever I got mad at her. It starts with “Bloody Mary is the girl I love,” and ends with what I dare not type lest Mom return from heaven with zest and a bar of Dial! And then there was the time Mary and Ginny were taking down laundry and telling each other in no uncertain terms where they could go. It wasn’t to the grocery store. They didn’t realize the window was opened. Mom had the bar of soap ready when they came inside, and their mouths were soon cleaner than the laundry though not as well rinsed.

I digress. Back to the lowly donkey. The chooch. The ciuco.

God spoke to his disobedient prophet, Balaam, through his donkey, and it puzzles me that Balaam wasn’t even surprised his beast could talk. Either Balaam was insane with anger, or it was common for animals to talk in those days, and perhaps they will again in God’s kingdom on earth. I choose to hope for the later.

On Palm Sunday Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey colt just as God had prophesied through Zechariah five-hundred years before: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass.” –Zechariah 9:9

I’ve made a donkey of myself more than a few times in my life.

I inwardly wince when a reader wants to meet me. Like some real author said—I forget who—perhaps C.S. Lewis, “Don’t hope to meet me. You’ll be disappointed. You have the best of me in my books.”

Meet me and you’ll discover a heehaw of a person who too often says and does the wrong thing. It’s easy to correct my mistakes in a blog. Someone tells me they’re there, and I go back and fix them. If only life were that simple.

I take great comfort in these two thoughts: If God could speak through Balaam’s ass, perhaps he can still say a few words through this one. If Jesus could ride a donkey into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, perhaps even this donkey can help advance His kingdom.

I wave a palm branch with that joyous crowd of two millennia ago. I throw my coat in the road for Jesus’ donkey to walk upon, a humble carpet for its noble feet.

I bow my head and heart low as Jesus passes and whisper, “It’s me Lord, your donkey, standing out here in the field, trying to bind up wounded hearts with my four clumsy feet. I’m right here, my Lord, if you ever need me.”

He calls back, “I love you, my child. Keep showing sad hearts where to find me; I’ll take care of their wounds.” And then with the clip clop, clip clop of tiny hooves He’s gone. I think a sentence floats back to me on the breeze, “And watch your phraseology!”

The End

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You can find these books on Amazon:

Corners Church: https://amzn.to/36ImxOj

If the Creek Don’t Rise: Corners Church Book 2 https://amzn.to/3jqarv2

Tale of Two Snowpeople: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09GJKG83R