The Bunny

Every parent knows the yell.  You know, THAT yell.  Not the “I’m fake hurt” or “my brother hurt me” or “I wanted that toy” one, but the “something is wrong” yell. 

I heard that yell the day after my twins turned five.  I was brushing my teeth when it came ringing up the stairs.  Toothpaste spat, toothbrush thrown, mom blood pumping. 

I met one of my twins coming up the stairs with the typical well worded response to the yell, “What happened?!” I was already working out in my head who could watch the child or children who weren’t hurt while I took the one(s) who needed stitches or a cast for the broken arm to the ER.

“There’s a stuck bunny!!!!” 

…what?

“You have to come! You have to come help it!  It’s stuck in the net!” 

Here’s a side lesson I’ve learned in parenting, even if the words seem nonsensical, there is always meaning; things are usually pretty literal. 

And sure enough, a bunny had gotten its head stuck through one of the little squares in our soccer net.  Being a bunny, it had panicked and was now quite twisted but by some miracle, it was still alive. 

This is one of the many situations that you don’t get to prepare for when you have kids.  Your brain is blank and racing at the same time with one, single thought, “oh no”. 

Lord, please don’t let this day begin in tragedy.  Please don’t let my boys’ hearts be broken because of this little bunny.  Please don’t let the bunny strangle itself while they are watching.  What do I do? 

Because you’re the mom, the fixer of things, you HAVE to do SOMETHING.  You can’t just leave it.  That’s cruel to the bunny and to the kids.  You’re the adult, so what are you going to do?  You’re going to take it step by step. 

First, “Guys, back up. Back up. Bunnies claws are actually really sharp.”

Immediately, they back up, staring at me, ready, waiting for mom to fix it, because that’s what she does. 

Next, we all need jobs.  I give big brother his job and twin A pipes up with “we should get him some carrots!  Bunnies love carrots and that’ll make him feel better!”  Like a shot, away the twins go to the kitchen.  I follow behind to collect the sharpest scissors in the house, the ones they are not allowed to touch; all the while assuring them that bunnies don’t have to have their carrots peeled. 

We all convene back on the patio.  The carrots are tossed toward the bunny, I’ve got a big, heavy towel, a pair of sharp scissors, and three spectators who are either going to have a story of triumph or of tragedy to tell.    

But third, before anything happens, I sit them down and we pray.  They pray out loud, hands folded tight and eyes squeezed shut.  And then I warn them, because I have to, because to lie and say that everything is going to be alright could be more hurtful than the truth.

I’m mom, the fixer of things.  But I can’t stop a bunny from strangling itself or breaking its own neck as I try to free it.  I know these things because I’m an adult, because I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes a thing can’t be saved.  And it’s sad.  And I really, really hate the idea of my children seeing that lesson today.  But I hate the idea more of them not being ready for it.  So I pray, beg, the whole time for help and not let this be one of the hard lessons.

“Guys, I’m going to do everything I can but you need to know that the bunny might not live.  It could hurt itself or strangle itself because it’s so afraid.  We’re going to keep praying but I want you to be ready that this bunny might die.”

 …

But it didn’t.  It hopped away to the cheers of my sons and was chased after by more flung carrots.  And I’m so grateful.  We thanked the Lord for saving that bunny and hoped we would see it again.  Then they kept playing, excited about when they got to tell Dad about their morning adventure.

And I, because I’m the adult, because I’m mom, the fixer of things, I got to reflect on the wonder of it all.  My children had shown me a glimpse into the men they could become.

They were eager, almost desperate, to help a creature that needed it.  Even if they didn’t know how. 

They sought to comfort it by providing it with food.  Even though as the adult, I knew that bunny wouldn’t eat those carrots, at least not while it was stuck and we were all there.  But those “wasted” vegetables were a price I was glad to pay to see my sons’ compassion. 

They obeyed when I told them to step back because they trusted that I had their safety at heart.  And I know they’ll remember that bunnies have sharp claws.  Please, God, let them grow to listen to you and trust that you aren’t trying to trick them or just keep them from something cool. 

They obeyed immediately when I sent them to fetch things.  No questions, no arguing, just a desire to work together to save somebody that needed saving. 

They sought the Lord for help.  Praying boldly that the bunny would get better and want to eat the carrots and feel better soon. 

And they rejoiced when it was saved.  They cheered and jumped and were excited to tell others about the bunny.  May they never lose that enthusiasm, that joy. 

Because the world will try.  It will try to get them to believe the lie that enthusiasm is NOT cool, that joy is a sign of the simple, that kindness is overrated or too much work, and the Lord doesn’t care about small things or is even involved. 

When that happens, I pray that I am there or the Spirit will speak to them and remind them that the effort to be kind is worth it, that joy outshines all negativity, and that God does care about small things and can get involved.  Even when it’s just a bunny.