Away in a Manger

His name is Reginald P. Piglet—Reggie for short. He’s had a big day: snouting about in the soil, redesigning his bed and nestling his way into the hearts and handbags of every visitor who met him today.

There is something disarming, almost sacred, in watching Reggie sleep, his tiny snores a lullaby of contentment, his twitching trotters acting out dreams painted in warmth and safety.

His heart is full.

And so is mine.

But as this festive season wraps its twinkling lights around us, I cannot help but think of all the other Reggies, the ones whose “mangers” are concrete, steel and excrement. The pigs whose lives begin and end in darkness. The ones who will never feel sunshine on their backs, the earth beneath their trotters or kindness from human hands.

Reggie is lucky. But he is NOT different. His joy, his intelligence, his cheeky antics, his desire for comfort and companionship, they are shared by every pig born into a world that too often refuses to see them.

But perhaps this year can be different.

Perhaps this season, one that speaks of peace, birth and possibility, invites us to pause. To wake up and to remember who we really are beneath the noise of tradition and the weight of inherited belief systems that were never ours to begin with—beliefs that harm animals, and in doing so, dim something in ourselves.

Reggie was found only because he was lost. A twist of fate that opened a doorway into a gentler and longer life. And maybe that is our invitation too: to find ourselves again by choosing kindness and by letting compassion, not habit, shape our choices and our hearts.

And by remembering that “goodwill to all” means all.

May the season ahead bring actions and beliefs that are birthed from love. May every manger, near or far, cradle sanctuary and not suffering. And may we, like Reggie, awaken to the truth that a kinder world is not only possible, it is simply waiting for us to choose it.

From our manger of kindness to yours, may peace and goodwill shine bright!

Pam and Reggie