Bunny

I am really resonating with Jonah this morning, especially how he must have felt left with just questions at the end of Chapter 4. (Go ahead, go read it. I’ll be here when you’re done.)

Are you back? I grabbed some coffee. I hope you did, too…

There was a light rain falling as I slowed for the red light, ready to turn right to head to my office. A flicker of movement on the road, as traffic went by, caught my eye. Straight ahead of me, looking right at me from across four lanes of traffic, close but not quite to the corner curb, was a small cottontail. Stuck in the wet road, apparently unsure which direction to safely dart to get out of it.

I projected panic into the bunny’s eyes, searching for elusive safety. And I, literally, felt a tug of emotion; concern, unease. Poor bunny.

And I turned right, and drove on to my office. Unaware of what was going to happen to him next, and feeling a little upset about it. I could have perhaps made a U-turn, parked in the Starbucks lot, and tried to shoo the poor guy to safety. (Well, as much safety as our suburban wilderness full of bobcats, coyotes, owls, and rattlesnakes allows.) I didn’t; I went on with what my day had to bring.

It’s just a bunny. And even so, it’s a bunny!

And I can just about hear God, as Jonah did, as I drive those two and a half miles in the rain:

“Are you upset about the rabbit?”

Clearly, it’s probably not just the rabbit, God. But s/he was so afraid, and lost, and just looking for the right way to go. And I’m already feeling emotionally raw and spiritually spent in responding to and caring for so many others right now; not to mention the lingering grief for my own mother and father that resurfaces at random times because it is clearly always with me. All change is loss, and grief surrounds me and those I know in these days of radical change. So yes, I’m upset about the rabbit because it just feels like one straw too many today, God.

“Is it right for you to be upset about the rabbit?”

Yes, of course it is. It’s an innocent, faced not just with frightening uncertainty but likely with lethal consequences from other drivers zooming by. It’s furry and fluffy and reminds me of cats at home and long gone, of the baby bunnies I once caught in my home garden and took photos with before releasing even if they were eating my vegetables.

“You are concerned about the little cottontail, which you didn’t even know about when you woke up and will likely forget by the time you lay to sleep.
You’re concerned about this small creature and the fear and uncertainty it faces.
Should I not be concerned about the people around you, who I know more intimately than you can possibly imagine? The ones that may be afraid and uncertain what step to take next?
The ones terrified of crossing the threshold of a church, but also unable to keep going the way they have been? The ones you leave behind as you pursue your agenda, your schedule?
The ones you leave for someone else to deal with, because you feel you already have enough grief and unease of your own?”