My name is Miriam. I’m the wife of a stable owner. My husband, Joel, owns a small herd of donkeys. We’re under the thumb of the Roman empire and must continue to pay taxes, feed ourselves and provide for our physical needs. We also do our best to tithe to the Lord for the blessings He’s bestowed on us. Our family has dwindled to just the two of us. All seven of our sons have started their own businesses in other towns. They prosper at what they do and often send us extra money when they can, but they have families to care for now. We rarely see them.

I worry about the man I married. His hands are gnarled with the ravages of time and handling stubborn animals for so many years. His back is often bent, and his knees have suffered from all the lifting and bending he’s had to endure. He may soon go to be with the Lord. With each passing year, even the task of feeding the animals has become a burden. Yet we continue to trust God for provision.

It was a typical evening in Bethpage. The sky was filled with stars, so much so that there was no need for the Roman torches that lined the street. We live in house in town with a small stable. It’s the perfect place for us to spend our final years. Still, we have to watch out for robbers and other criminals that roam the streets at night. It’s much different than living in the wide-open spaces. I’d prepared a nice stew for Joel from vegetables from my garden and the remaining meat of a lamb we slaughtered. There was always an abundance of bread, freshly baked. I enjoy cooking for Joel, because he never complains about what we have to eat. He’s used to the bare necessities.

As I looked out the window, I caught a glimpse of him, tying a donkey and her foal to the post in front of the gate. Perhaps he was just too tired to put them in the barn. I didn’t think much about it until we were sitting down to dinner. I heard the animals braying loudly. I looked out to see some men standing beside them. I thought they were robbers. I urged Joel to go out and confront them, but as soon as he opened the door, I regretted doing so. He had no weapon. He was physically unable to fight them off. I was concerned for his safety, but there was nothing I could do.

They talked for a while. I thought Joel was arguing with them at first, but then it seemed they had come to some sort of agreement. I sat down again, relieved yet still a bit unsure about what had just happened. Joel came through the door. He walked with confidence. His back seemed to have instantly straightened out.

“Did you get a good price,” I asked.

“I didn’t take money for the animals,” he replied. “The donkeys are going to be used to carry a king.”

“You didn’t take money for those animals? They’re the best that we own. How could you be so foolish?”

“What I did was not foolish, woman. The animals are to be used for a good purpose. One that will glorify God,” he said.

Joel continued to tell me what happened in those few short moments. The men had come at the request of their Master. The Master was the Rabbi who preached at the Mount of Olives. Our simple beasts of burden would be used to carry him into the city of Jerusalem for His regal entry. Joel felt compelled to give them freely. To have such a small part in an event of such great magnitude filled my husband’s heart with joy. I soon joined in his contentment. Our animals would fulfill an ancient prophesy from the scrolls of Zechariah.

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9 ESV)