In 1970 a Christmas TV special was released called “The Night the Animals Talked.” I don’t remember ever watching it, but I must have heard the title somewhere because I went on a Google search today and found it. It’s still available on YouTube and is a delightful little cartoon (remember it’s 1970 film, not digital).
The idea of talking animals isn’t new. Think of George Orwell’s Animal Farm, and even further back you have fairy tales with talking animals. In fact, there was even a talking donkey in the Bible (Numbers 22:21-39). When I was growing up I didn’t think about the history of talking animals. I knew what I saw on cartoons or in my Little Golden Books. It wasn’t a foreign concept to me because MY animals talked.
If you read last week’s blog, you may have noticed that my cats called my Mom “Grandma.” All of them did. Don’t yours?
The whole idea of animals talking even led to my first picture book What Kind of Cow Are You? (Published by Journey Stone Creations, which is sadly out of business. I hope to re-release it in the next year under a different title) I was driving past a pasture where both cows and goats grazed. Usually they stay with their own crowd, but on this day a young calf and a young goat stood near the fence looking at each other. In my mind the calf was saying, “What kind of cow are you?”
The rest of the story practically wrote itself.
In last week’s blog I mentioned my mom’s gruff exterior when it came to animals. Oddly enough when the cats spoke to Grandma — using my voice, of course – Grandma never answered me. She looked at the animal who was addressing her and answered it.
One time we were doing first aid on an injured duck, and Joey the cat came over to inspect.
Joey said, “Grandma, I like this, this — what did you call it?”
Mom picked Joey’s front legs up, looked him in the eyes and said, “Ducky Lucky.”
Towards the end of her life I suspected she actually thought the animals were talking. We had some pigs in the piglot, and I enjoyed walking my dog over to the lot and taking them some corn husks or apple peels or potato chips – which they loved, by the way. On the day before they were scheduled to be butchered, I fed them their potato chips with a heavy heart. I was glad I had to work, so would not be around to see them go. I felt I had to say good-bye.
“I’m going to miss you guys.”
One of the pigs replied, “Me, too. Where – where are you going?”
I told Mom what the pig said, and she laughed. Later when there were other family members present, she said, “Joyann, tell them what the pig said.”
Umm. . . . really?
Going back to “The Night the Animals Talked” when the miracle first happened they sounded like a lot of the offices I’ve worked in. The hens fussed that the rooster didn’t do anything. The Mama cow did NOT want anyone in her manger. The goats fussed at everyone. The bull pointed out that they all sounded like the humans they disliked so much. The message went over there heads, and when the dog came in and announced there was a young couple who couldn’t find a place to sleep for the night the fussing began again. The animals (with the exception of the sheep, pigs, bull and dog) unanimously declared that there was “No room in the stable!”
Once again the bull spoke up: they all sounded like the people they deplored. This time they got the message, and they happily shared their stable. When the babe was born (Mary and Joseph are seen only in shadow, and the manger is full of light, so we don’t see the baby Jesus either), the animals gathered round to experience the joy. Even the outcast pigs were allowed in to see and rejoice.
We talk like humans, too. We fuss and fight. We want our own way. What’s mine is mine, and don’t let those outsiders in ‘cause they don’t look like us. Let me restate that last phrase: don’t let that long-haired homeless person in our church. He stinks, and he doesn’t belong here.
Like the animals we need to gather round the Christ child and experience the joy that only He can give. It’s not about the hustle and bustle. It’s not about that perfect gift. It’s not about all the parties or Christmas music or white Christmases. It’s about the Savior.
Is there room in your stable – er, heart – to receive Him?
I love “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” especially when Linus reads the Christmas story from Luke 2. Enjoy it below and remember the meaning of Christmas.