From inside the house I heard the scream of fear coming from my son outside. When I reached the backyard my son and our neighbor boy explained to me that something had dug a hole under our play set and they saw it. As they were unable to explain what it looked like, thus I couldn’t determine what it was, I instructed them to stay away from that part of the yard. Well, come on people I wasn’t going over there and the kid’s dad would be home soon to embark on that investigation. Fortunately my son is skittish and kept his distance until his father was home. Armed with a long metal rod and a hammer, obvious creature investigation tools, my husband headed toward the hole. I watched from the safety of our upper deck. I never would have guessed they would locate a rabbit nest. With absolute pure uninhibited joy, only a child possesses, my son yelled, “Mom, you have to see this. It is a bunny nest and the babies are precious! They are precious like sissy!” During my husband’s poking and prodding he uncovered a rabbit nest with no less than six babies in it and I was overcome with happiness. Like my 4-year-old, I too had never seen such a thing and I agreed it was precious.
I grew up around farmers and avid gardeners, so I am aware that rabbits can be huge pests. Precious might not be the adjective some would use, but I was filled with the awe of new life. As a mom of two, the latest add-on arriving only 7 months ago, I couldn’t help but think of the mother rabbit that so carefully and meticulously dug this hole, filled it with her babies, and covered them with grass and fur. The baby rabbits were tiny and helpless, but cuddled close to each other as we gazed down at them. I was struck by the miracle of new life, even that of bunnies. Every little creation a wonder.
My boy can be quite rough and tumble, but has the most tender heart. He asked a million questions about the babies and was concerned about their mommy and daddy. Aware of the possible negative outcome of disturbing the nest and afraid of the disappointment our son might have to face, we explained that we needed to leave the rabbits alone and that the momma might not be accepting of her young since we had uncovered the nest. We also discussed the possibility that something else might “get” the bunnies. He suggested we cover the nest back up and hope that the babies’ parents would come and take care of them. Then he spent much of the evening staring longingly and protectively out the window in the direction of the nest.
This morning my son literally jumped out of his bed in a t-shirt and underwear. He ran for the back door. He could not be stopped or contained as he screeched something about HIS baby rabbits. He was a 4-year-old with the heart of a parent. He was driven to check on his babies, so out we went underwear and all. We reached the nest and I could have felt the fist hit me in the gut. The hole was vacant and two precious babies lay next to the former nest dead. I knew this could happen. My husband and I even discussed the real likelihood this could occur, yet in the morning sun with my own baby holding my hand I just wanted to cry. My raw heart was reacting to this sad little event, but my hurt originated somewhere else.
Life is precious, a gift, and (as my mother always told me) sometimes it’s a bitch. I have watched two people I have loved since the beginning of my time struggle with old age. The toll of living a long life. Are their struggles life threatening or is the end just around the corner, no. However, life will not get easier for them. They are losing the ability to do the things they love, and they are in physical pain daily. There is nothing I can do, but lend an ear, run an errand, send a package, and love them. I can’t take away the struggle, I can’t kiss the owie and make it better, like they always did for me. They have been the shelter I sought during every storm of my life. I thought, and honestly still think, they are super heroes capable of taking down every evil in my life and protecting me from all real harm. I am drowning in sadness as I work to accept the reality that they are not invincible and that old age will be their kryptonite. Their life will end; it is reality. Reality bites!
Seeing those dead bunnies struck me because my greatest fear right now is the death of my little old people. The truth is I don’t fear death for them, but the reality of their death for me. I believe in life everlasting and a world without pain. I know He promises to heal my people and provide them a real home when they leave this world. However, my breath catches in my throat as I think about living my own life without them. Pretty selfish.
In the aftermath of the dead bunny discovery my son has danced joyously in my living room, painted rainbows, and created with his play-doh. He still has mentioned the bunnies and said he is sad, but his life is going on. Perhaps He is showing me there will be real pain, but there will also still be silliness, joy, and dancing.
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