Iman the donkey loved her mother dearly. Her wise mother had traveled to Bethlehem and Egypt before coming to Nazareth. Iman was raised near the city Nazareth and always enjoyed being near to her mother. Iman’s mother would tell stories of her travels, and Iman admired and held close to her heart the stories and counsel her mother gave her. Iman’s favorite story was of a hero who has come to earth, which her mother encouraged her to be watchful for.
“Imagine” her mother would say, “of whom is the holiest and the most kind.” She continued, “The master who created you and me, He is Immanuel. He who hath created the barley of the fields and the carrots of the ground.” Iman would ask, “mother, when shall I see Him?” Her mother smiled with caring eyes, “little one, the time shall come."
That night, Iman dreamed of golden fields, flowing streams of gleaming water, and the sound of trumpets. On most days, as she went grazing with the other donkeys the sound of trumpets filled her mind. One night, she dreamed of palm leaves swaying in the sun, she saw hundreds of people. One person in the crowd knelt on the ground and in praise declared, “Immanuel, Immanuel, Blessed are you!” Iman’s dream then shifted from the palm leaves and people to a rope being tied around her neck, a heavy load being put upon her back, and a feeling of much thirst. Iman sought deliverance, and as she thought of her name, she remembered Immanuel. Iman called out humbly, “Immanuel, help me be the donkey you want me to be.” The trumpet sounded once more, and she heard the voices of two men, one gave her water, and the other removed her load and ropes from around her neck.
The next morning, she could remember every detail of her dream. Iman looked to the sunrise, she felt confused but felt assured in a way that was new to her. Her mother walked to her side. “Do you know why I named you Iman?” Her mother asked. Iman replied, “I do not know, but you have said I am to remember my name.” Her mother responded modestly, “To the right of the sunrise lies a country of endless sand and much heat, but a large river makes the entire land prosper.” After a slight pause, she continued, “I went with a young family there many years ago. A man whose face was covered in dirt and sweat ran from under a stout old tree that gave but little shade on the side of the road. This man, who I suppose had patiently waited for travelers to pass, seemed earnest to sell figs from his large straw basket.
This man’s name I remember was Raqib. He did not have much, but seemed to have found it all within the moment he beheld our small company of travelers. He went from a lowly spirit to bursting with life. Raqib rushed towards us, a young woman and child stood beside me. He knelt on the ground before the woman and child and declared, “Oh Immanuel, glory, and goodness!” Raqib freely offered the young boy and his parents as many figs as they would like. Raqib’s charity has forever touched my heart."
The young man named Joseph was always good to us animals and thanked Raqib. Joseph insisted on paying him for a few of the figs, but Raqib responded, “You have already paid me more than I can give thee. For God is with us!”
Iman’s mother looked at her with water in her eyes, “Immanuel has been a reminder to me that happiness and goodness are possible for everyone. I have found this goodness because of Immanuel. Iman, you have been a reminder to me of this goodness and never-ending love. When you remember your name, remember His. Iman looked at her mother with big hopeful eyes of wonder and excitement. Iman knew her mother was wise.
The sun had set after a peaceful day. The people in town had all stayed within the city, it was Shabbat. The donkeys enjoyed this day as much as the people. Wafts of the scent of cooked fish and bread occasionally could be smelt out in the fields, as the donkeys all grazed.
Iman dreamed once again that night. Iman again saw the palm leaves, she saw the people, and she heard the trumpet. This time, the trumpet awoke her from her night’s sleep, she felt restless and had a queasy feeling in her stomach. She stood under the stars and reflected on what her mother had told her. “Immanuel the hero of all kind,” my mother would say. “Be diligent in charity and love,” Iman said aloud to herself. The first few songbirds began to chirp before the sun could be seen, she looked to the horizon and quietly spoke, “Immanuel, help me be the donkey you want me to be.”
Some hours passed and the clouds covered the view of the sun on this late spring day. A man with a stern face and eager eyes suddenly appeared. With little time to understand, a rope and a large sack were tossed and tied upon Iman's back and a rope around her neck. A time of loneliness and hardship followed. Iman was made to carry heavy loads and travel long journeys. She was not given much, and she suffered the long hard travels without much beyond her faith in a Savior. Immanuel was with her.
Months passed, and Iman had not seen her mother and missed having someone to talk to. Iman had been taken to a strange land, where she carried loads of items, and traveled across valleys and over difficult hills. Iman looked to the memories and advice of her mother. Her mother would say, “When you remember your name, remember His. “
It had almost been ten months since she left Nazareth. Iman’s master who treated her unkindly had left her at a post near the edge of the town of Bethpage, on the night of the start of Shabbat. She had waited for him to return and was becoming very thirsty. Shabbat had come to an end and still, her master had not returned. Night fell, and she dreamed of the palm leaves and heard the trumpet once more. She awoke and looked towards the horizon and prayed, “Immanuel, help me be the donkey you want me to be.”
The thirst and hunger increased as the night turned to morning, where the dew had dissipated from the shrubs and plants that were just out of reach from her. Not long after, two men appeared in the distance. She watched in faith as the two men came to her. These men smiled, one gave her water, the other removed the ropes that kept her tied at the wooden post, and they led her to the city Jerusalem.
When they arrived in Jerusalem, she knew who it was when she saw Him. It was Immanuel! The one she had longed to see but had only known in her heart. Immanuel looked at the young and loving donkey. He spoke in the kindest tone that Iman had ever heard one speak. “Iman, you have become the donkey I have desired you to be.”
Through the city gates, palm leaves were lifted and people bowed in praise and worship-filled admiration. Iman’s mother was wise and had prepared Iman for this day. Iman had strengthened her faith, through prayer, perseverance, and trust in her good and glorious master, Immanuel. She remembered Him and His good works, which provided her the foundation to follow and find Him.
This is a story of our King who has come, Jesus Christ our Savior, Immanuel. Let us praise in adoration!
Oh, Immanuel, glory and goodness!
Alynne Rose
Oh Alynne, this is such a powerful, and moving story. o love it! It is written so well. I felt the passion and love you were trying to convey . This is a tender story that brought me to tears. At the end of the story , when you conveyed the tender personality of the Savior, I could truly feel His kindness . You have such a great gift. thank you for sharing this with me. I love you.