I am an ass. Literally. No, I mean genuinely, I am an ass.

I was born a poor donkey. But my eyes have seen the Glory of the Lord. I come from a very respectable line of donkeys. Why, it has been passed down in our oral history that my great, great grandfather spoke. I mean in human language. He spoke to a prophet, and rebuked him. Imagine that, a prophet of the Living God, being rebuked by an ass. I imagine it wasn't the last time, the way some of those prophets run around spouting off like they do, speaking from their own authority and for their own glory. They could do with a little more time chewing their cud before they go off like a darn cow, mooing like they do and all.

Well, where was I? Oh yea, as I was saying, I may be a poor ass, but mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord. It happened like this. My human, smelling of wood like he always did, started loading me down for travel. I grunted, and shifted back and forth on my feet, just to let him know that I wasn't happy with the way things were progressing. Why, how in the world did he expect me to carry all that weight?

I could tell he was worried, that he was frustrated, things were a little bit out of his control, and he didn't like it a bit. And there I was, convetching up a storm, moving around, and giving him a hard time. Then came my other human, and she was with child. Somehow in her presence, I was stilled. I could tell there was something special about her, and about her child. I couldn't quite place it, like I should know her child, like I had seen that child and known that child. Which was ridiculous I thought seeing as the child hadn't been born yet. But there was talk about strange happenings in the barnyard. Why little Larry Lamb, right before he was served up as Passover meal, claimed that he had seen and heard an angel talking to my female human, and promising great things of that baby. Of course, I couldn't really verify this rumor, seeing as how Larry got eaten and all, so it was only hearsay. But it does make a poor ass think, I tell ya.

Well, she came out, and off we started, on some journey that made no sense to me, off to some hick town called Bethlehem or something, and me carrying all their food, and the pregnant dame too. I wanted to feel sullen, I wanted to buck around a bit, frollick with the misses, and scare her some, but I couldn't. I can't explain it, I just couldn't do it. For starters, there were all those giant angels following us, like some holy procession or something. It kind of creeped me out, you know what I mean? Look, next time you are surrounded by about ten thousand angels, you just tell me if you get a little weirded out or not.

So there we were, this huge procession, heavenly royalty, and we come strolling into the city of Bethlehem, and the missus, she is close to busting with child. I can smell that her water has broken, feel it running over my shoulders, and I put a little more speed on then I thought was possible after such a long trip. We get to the Inn, and what do they say? The Inn is full. Can you believe it? All those angels around, milling about, singing their songs and gripping those big swords they all have, and the humans have the gall to tell us that the Inn is full?

My human, Joseph, he is really sweating now, begging for them to find a place, hearing his woman moaning, knowing that the time is near for the child. The man relents, and tells him he can go to the stable. Off we go, and Joseph is there, cleaning up, and clearing a space, getting clean straw, trying to make his female comfortable. And all those angels are trying to crowd their way into the stable. Of course, all us animals there are beside ourselves. Why, none of us had seen this many angels in one place ever before in our lives, we all said so. They kept badgering me, pestering me, wanting to know just who were these people that I had brought in.

When I said that I had speculated a bit, and come to the conclusion that the baby must be the Ancient of Days, why there was such a ruckus going on that Joseph got up and yelled at us all to be quite, or we'd all end up on the altar as offerings. But he didn't have to say any more, because the angels began to sing, and they lifted their hands to the heavens, and sung of God's great mercy, of God's great faithfulness, that God Himself would come to this earth as a little baby, God with us, Emmanuel, to save all mankind, and bring salvation to the earth.

And then, there he was, a little bit of dark hair peaking out from the heaving pangs of birth, bloody hair, water flowing, woman screaming, angels singing, and we animals were silent, in awe, knowing that what we were privileged to see was priceless. The singing of the angels echoed throughout all the city, louder than anything I had ever heard in my entire life, yet, the humans seemed not to notice at all. From the sound of it, every angel in all the heavens must have been here to witness this, and every one of them bellowing at the top of their lungs. Oh it still brings tears to my eyes, the beauty of that song, the way that baby gave his first yell, and the way the angels wove that yell into their song, that beautiful song, of the baby crying. A baby's voice, but somehow, powerful, majestic. It isn't just me, there were many others of us animals in the barn that day, and we all agreed that the voice of the baby rang with power.

I began to weep, overwhelmed at the thought, that the Great I Am, who had brought me and my forefathers along with my human's forefathers out of Egypt, was here, the pillar of fire a babe in swaddling clothes, the pillar of smoke belching after a feeding. A king, The King, and only us poor animals here to witness it. Where were the great hosts of humans to come and get on their knees and worship the King?

Now I know that some rumors circulated that three kings came that night and gave wonderful gifts. Let me tell you, I was there, and they didn't come that night. They didn't come until almost two years had passed.

Just when I had given up, and begun to think that no one was going to come worship their King, there came a few, some poor shepherds, who came and fell on their faces, and worshipped the baby. One carried some wildflowers, one a harp that he strummed as he sang, all of them had paltry things, yet they worshipped their king with their whole hearts, and honored that babe in swaddling clothes by pledging him their lives. Again I marveled, that The Creator of the Universe would come, and reveal himself to the poorest, those that everyone would look down on, the King of Glory known only by fools and shepherds.

I met a young donkey, and I laid with her, and she was with child. And I prayed, that my child, or my grandchild or his child, would have the privilege to carry this King into the Holy City, Jerusalem, when they finally took him down to crown him King. And I felt a peace, and knew that it would be so.

I am telling you all of this, because you must keep this story, remember it, and pass it down, for it is the best thing that has ever happened to us donkeys, and probably the best thing that ever could. For my eyes have seen the Glory of the Lord, and I have seen his salvation.