Tag Archives: Palm Sunday

George and his donkey

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Sometimes Monday evenings are difficult because I put my “major” blog up on Tuesday and have to come up with something. 

In reference to my blog, major doesn’t mean spectacular.  It’s like the prophets in the Bible which are divided into two categories:  major prophets and minor prophets.   How does a book become major?   It’s all based on length.   The longer books are major.    The short are minor.    That’s a lot like my blog posts.   The longer one is on Tuesday; the shorter, on Friday.

The reason I’m madly searching for a topic to writer this major post is that I had one ready to go but needed an okay which I haven’t received.  Maybe next week.

For that reason, I’m going to discuss George, the donkeys and Palm Sunday.  Not a timely topic but it’s all I have and I’d forget it by next spring.

When George was associate minister at First Christian Church in Louisville, KY–which is really in Prospect, KY, but that’s not our discussion for today.  He felt a donkey should lead the procession on Palm Sunday.  It’s not easy to find a donkey without connections to the donkey set but he did and was so excited.  Everyone at church was excited until late Saturday evening, the owner of the little creature called and said, “Your donkey has the flu.”   I cannot describe how disappointed George way.  He said if he ever wrote an autobiography, the title would be, “Your Donkey Has the Flu.”

The next year, he found a healthy creature,  We processed at the Christian Church, then the donkey walked across the highway to the Episcopal Church to lead their procession.

In the church in Burnet, TX, George found a donkey named George.  Palm Sunday mornings were a little confusing.  Shout “George” and who knew who’d turn up?   The donkey George seemed like a placid little animal.  He allowed children to rub his nose and adults to wander around it–at least, until James, who was playing the part of Jesus, tried to sit on top of him.  Then the donkey George reacted.   Not happy with someone on his back, he took off with James hanging on.

If you’ve read my book THE MATCHMAKERS OF BUTTERNUT CREEK, you know that I used this scene.  In reality, the donkey only moved a few yards before he was captured and James was saved.  I made it a lot worse but that’s what writers do.

After that, Palm Sunday was celebrated with only waving palms.  No more donkeys.

Where do you get your ideas?

A question, Butternut Creek, Musings, Writing, , , , , , , , , , ,

Over and over, I’ve been told, “Write what you know.”   I’ve never agreed.  If authors stuck to writing what they knew, no historicals would be in print because the author  wasn’t alive to witness those events.   Agatha Christie would never had written her mysteries because, as far as we know, she never killed anyone.

 I wrote two historicals that took place in Regency England in 1812 and another that took place in Texas 120 years ago.  Had to do a lot of research to do that.

Then I started writing the Tales from Butternut Creek series and realized I was writing exactly what I knew: a minister in a small town church. The Palm Sunday donkey running away with his rider? I was one of the group that grabbed the animal before he could toss the boy off. A minister’s fear of counseling a member of the congregation? Been there and survived and the woman I counseled did as well. The group of women who run the church? I’ve met them in every church either my husband or I have served and readers tell me they know a Miss Birdie. All the stories, all the embarrassing and funny situations we lived came together in these books and I’ve had such a great time writing them.

Sometimes the memories make me laugh. But members of a congregation suffer, too, and I cried with them. Those hard times made the books, too.

 Of course, I didn’t live through or actually witness everything I wrote. We never lived in a huge Victorian parsonage but I’ve always wanted to—if I didn’t have to do the housework. And I expanded on some of the scenes. In Butternut Creek, the donkey took off down the highway with the kid hanging on his back. In reality, he ran only ten yards although I imagine the boy riding him thought it last far longer.

Have you had an experience you think should be in a book? I’d love for you to share.