“Just as I was about to give up on seeing my colt and his rider a triumphant noise went up from the crowd.”
I must admit, I was quite upset with my father. After all, it was my colt that he was loaning to a bunch of strangers. I had nursed the colt from birth when its mother died. I had taken it upon myself to make sure it grew healthy and strong. And now?
Now my father had agreed to let a full-grown man ride my colt into the city. Didn't he know that the city was very busy this time of year? With all the visitors coming to Jerusalem for the Passover, the roads would be packed with excited people and sheep. My poor colt (I had secretly named him Goliath) would be nervous and jittery. It would probably be weeks till I could approach him again.
Why did the man need my colt, anyway? He had several friends with him and they weren't riding. They were walking just fine on their own. But this man, for some reason, felt he should ride into town on the back of my colt. So, I must admit, I was quite upset.
I decided early in the day that I would be there, at the city gate, to watch them come in. I was determined that if I witnessed even one little bit of cruelty to my colt then I would walk right up to that man and demand he get off, right there, and give me the rope. No man was going to mistreat my animal friend.
As I ran down the hill in the direction of the gate I was stopped by the crowd. I knew there would be a lot of people but this group seemed to be stopped, waiting for something to happen. I tried to push my way through and was rewarded with a palm branch in my face. I decided trickery was my best hope so I stood as tall as I could, waved my arm and yelled at the top of my voice.
"Mother! Here I am! I can't get any closer!" It worked. A narrow walkway opened for me as no one wanted to be guilty of keeping a young boy from his mother!
There was a bit of a breeze, almost a wind, as I turned this way and that to get through the crowd. And yet, I had noticed no gusts earlier. I looked around and found the source of the moving air. Everyone around me was waving a palm branch. It was like the stories I have heard of kings and their subjects. Perhaps I had come to the wrong gate and I would only see that stupid Herod come in.
Just as I was about to give up on seeing my colt and his rider a triumphant noise went up from the crowd. 'Hosanna!' one cried. 'To the king!' yelled another. All around me the people were repeating the words. 'Hosanna! To the king!' Over and over.
I looked in the direction of the crowd's attention and saw my colt. My heart dropped. He was walking so slowly that I knew he must be collapsing under the weight of the man on his back. The road was rough under his hooves. I stepped forward thinking I was going to push the man off and take my colt home.
Right then something happened. That man. The one riding my colt. He looked right at me. Then, very slowly, he closed one eye. 'Hosanna! To the king!' the crowd yelled to the man who had just winked at me. Then I saw his smile. I watched as his hand reached and petted the neck of the colt. Fickle animal. He perked up his ears and raised his head. He strutted as if he, too, thought he was carrying a king!
There was no longer the rush of palm branches in the air. The people were throwing them down into the street making a pathway for their king. 'Hosanna! To the king!' they cried as the man rode past them. "He is going to be a king, you know." A man standing next to me whispered. "He will get his throne and the Herod will be out in the cold!" I watched as my colt walked proudly down the path carrying this doubtful king. Perhaps, I thought. But he certainly wouldn't be a king in this world! The only way a man that gentle, that obviously loved, could be king would be if someone died.
© 1998, by Pat Hood. Used with permission.