this moment: the littlest bunny

Our world is filled with crazy – chores and homework, practices and games and tournaments, the ups and downs of tweens.  Life spends so much time rushing past us with its hair on fire that we adapt.  We start to think well, this is how it’s supposed to be, with the years flying by and all that.

Until time stops for one of those kairos moments.  I still remember one from this summer like it was yesterday.

BrightSide was mowing the backyard when the kids burst through the back door yelling something about dad needing help and a bunny.

Yeah, that one gave me pause, too.

I popped outside to see what was going on and found BrightSide, T-man, and Bear hunched by a small bush near the house.  Lots of voices chimed in at once, but the gist of it seemed to be that the riding mower had flushed out a baby bunny and he had hidden in the bush.  The irony is that there’s an enormous field practically designed for bunnies behind our house, so if the little guy had just run the other way he’d have been home free.  But we can’t fault a terrified bunny for being disoriented.

The gate was wide open.  Our master plan was to shoo the bunny toward the field, hoping his natural instincts would take over from there.  This seemed like a great plan…until we couldn’t find the bunny.  We must have been quite a sight, the four of us crouched around a tiny bush trying to spot some fur.  I expressed my doubts but the kids were quite insistent: the bunny was in the bush.

We’d just about given up hope when BrightSide stood and pointed to the left.  There, sitting still as a statue by the house, was the tiniest bunny I have ever seen.  I’m certain he was fervently praying the large creatures poking at the bush would go away so he could make his escape, because he looked like he was frozen until the coast was clear.

Our problem was the mowing.  In a perfect world, we all would have retreated inside to give bunny space.  In our world, it was Saturday, it wasn’t raining, and BrightSide needed to finish the yard.  Dilemma.

Which is when T-man said he could handle it and asked me for gloves.

Like a fool (aka a mom who still hasn’t recognized the gifts my son sees in himself) I argued with him – what are you talking about?  It won’t let you pick it up.  How will you even get to it without scaring him? – but eventually I caved.  There was no convincing T-man that he couldn’t pick up this creature.

T-man came back wearing latex gloves (our best attempt at not jinxing the bunny’s return to the wild) and kneeled quietly near the little guy.  The rest of us just stood back and watched.  In truth, there was a part of me quickly calculating what kind of damage a frightened bunny could do if it leapt at my son.  (Go ahead and laugh at that one.  I just did.)

And then it happened.  T-man reached down, gently placed his hands around the bunny, and tenderly scooped him up.  He turned to find me staring, eyes wide, as he carried the bunny outside the fence and to the edge of the field.  T-man stayed until he was sure the bunny had moved to safety and then returned to us, pride streaming from every pore.

Kairos.

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