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By Pauline Presley They sat huddled in the window, quietly, waiting very still because it was Christmas Eve and they were waiting for midnight. You see, someone had told them that at mid night on Christmas Eve the animals talk, just as you and I. The little girl looked up to her brother, her blue eyes wide with waiting—for three-year-old eyes can be very wide, you know—and she said, “Is it time, huh? Is it time, Bobby?” And Bobby, with the impatience of an 11-year-old, said, “Be quiet, Jan, can’t cha? I'll tell you when it’s time.’ He slipped on a jacket over his pajamas and remembered to wear his shoes. He reached down for his little sister, grabbed a blanket to wrap around her pajama clad figure, slowly opened and un hooked the screen. He climbed out the window, pul ling his sister out after him. They made their way out to the barn and they looked like some grotesque thing from another world, clinging together in the night, the blanket slashed around them and trailing to the ground. The barn loomed ahead. It seemed to be leaning toward them there in the night. Jane held tightly to Bobby, her warm little arms around his neck, and he start ed to lift the latch on the barn door. He was so frightened. He thought of the bedroom, snug and safe and warm. But at that moment the whole world seemed to light up, and a feeling of warmth and glad ness came over him like the feeling in church when the people sang and their voices reached up, even up to Heaven. He looked down at his little sis ter, hugged her tightly and said softly, “Can you stay awake a little longer, Hon? We can see them from right here.” He pulled a board to one side and knelt down on the ground so he would be more Jan’s size, and they could see together. All of the animals were gathered in the middle of the barn. The cows and horses had left their stalls, the chickens were awake and sitting around wherever they could gather and the two baby calves stood to gether trying to look very grown-up. The horses were the tallest, of course, and seemed to have charge of the proceedings. The four cows stood very attentive and weren’t chewing their cuds; in the pale light they didn’t look clumsy, but found any soft and cuddly. The donkey had left his stall and the sheep were huddled together, paying no attention to the dog who lay quietly in the hay while two kit tens fought playfully beside him. The pet rabbits sat nearby and they weren’t even sniffing, making an effort to be dignified and unusually stately. The pigeons roasted on the rafters, very quietly, not cooing at each other, their pink little feet shining in the glow of the unusual light, and among the pigeons was a dove, a white, pink-billed dove. One of the horses said, in a funny squealy voice, “The time has come. We must speak quickly. We all know our loyalty to the Lord Jesus, generations back, and the stories handed down to us. I regret that my ancestors did little to serve Him but they saw Him many times and they say He was good and kind.” The donkey nodded and said, “My ancestors had the honor of serving the Lord Jesus, and I try not to be proud but I must truthfully say that one of my family was proud to carry the Mother of the Lord Jesus to Bethlehem, and he also took the Holy Family to Nazareth. But best of all was that special day, that Palm Sunday when one of my fam ily carried the King. I would do the same, and more, were he here today.” One of the sheep stepped forward and said,‘My family, years ago, were sleeping in the hills beyond Bethlehem when the angels woke them with beautiful singing, such happy news of the newborn King. Our shepherds went to the manger to see him, and it was with joyful hearts the news came to us that He was the Good Shepherd and the peo ple of the world His sheep,” One of the cows stepped forward. “When the wise men came, in royal robes and crowns and gifts in their arms, my family was there. Some of them say it was some time after His birth that the wise men came, and that there were more than three of them, but that does not matter. I do know that the good God spoke to Joseph and warned him to leave because the bad King Herod wanted the Lord Jesus’ life.” One of the rabbits stepped for ward. “That is true. My family has told for generations how the bad king killed all the babies in that country, all from two years old and younger. It is recorded in history. They call it ‘The Slaughter of the Innocents.’” The dog stepped forward. “I dobt that it is recorded anywhere, but my family knew the Lord Jesus well. His earthly father, Joseph, was a carpenter, and the little Jesus fol lowed him around, carrying boards and a ruler, and one of my family was always at his heels. They say He never ate until they had been fed, and in the hot summer months He always placed water where it could be found when the sun be came hot and the dust unbearable.” The rooster flew down from his perch and although he stood proudly he spoke in a well mannered, croaky voice, “The Savior used the voice of my ancestor as a warning, as a her ald of Heaven, if I may be so bold. The voice warned the good St. Peter when he denied our Lord and even today the bad spirits flee from my voice because I bring the news of the pure light of day.” 6. One of the kittens stretched and yawned and stuck out her pretty, pink tongue. She said, “My mother told me that our family was always well treated by the Lord Jesus. He always stopped to pick us up and never allowed bad boys to torment us. She said he healed the sick and made the blind to see, and fed thousands of people with three fish and five loaves of bread.” She sat down and curled her tail neatly around her feet. “I wish He were here today, I cannot believe such a man existed!” The pigeon cried, “How can you say such things! Have we not told you how he escaped death from the wicked Herod? How the Slaughter of the Innocents is recorded in his tory? And that is not all, this man gave His life for His people, so that no longer must an animal be sacri ficed to God for the sins of man, He hung on a cross and gave Him self as a sacrifice so that now each man is accountable for his own sins, he owes his life in return .. . but you are too young to understand how a man died hanging to a cross, died long before the usual time, died from a broken heart because the world did not care and the Father Himself hid his face because He could not bear to see His Son suffer!” The white dove left her perch and hovered in mid-air. “Hush!” she whispered, “Did He not come back to us? Is He not alive today? Are we not celebrating His birth the world over? This is not a time for sadness—” And, all at once the pale, clear light was gone and it was just a simple barn and farm animals, just as before. Jan was asleep and Bob by was so disappointed that she did not see the dove nor hear it’s voice, but he picked up his little sister so lovingly and carried her back to their home. And when he spoke to his mother she smiled to herself and wished she could think as a child, see and feet and hear the animals talk at midnight. But she knows she never shall. You see, only the pure in heart can hear the animals talk at mid night on Christmas Eve.
Newspaper Details
Cobden Review
Cobden, Illinois, US
Thu, Dec 27, 1956
Page 1
Full Page
Clipped by
Robert P.
USA 06 Jul 2026
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