Bunny

It had been a hectic day full of my rowdy boys and even rowdier nieces. No one had really noticed that bunny wasn't with us until late evening. Of course, the girls had not seen the small tattered animal that rarely left my son's side. They were spending the week with us while their mom was on a mission trip. My sister had called. Now, Constance was intent on crying herself to sleep.

Edmund became frantic. "Can you find him?", he pleaded. Robert and I searched and searched. No Bunny. I cleaned the common rooms trying not to wake the children. Robert manned a flashlight which was replaced by the Coleman lantern. No bunny in the back yard. No bunny in the car. Now, Edmund began to cry. Two crying children in one night can work a mommy's nerves. At first, I was unsympathetic. 'You should have kept up with him.' Wrong response. Any attempts at bravery went out the window. Edmund began to wail, "Bunny! Oh, Buuunnny! (hiccup)I (sob, hiccup) want (sniff) my (big breath) Buuunnnyyy!"

In the face of such heart-brokenness, Robert and I revamped our efforts to no avail. The small cotton character was no where to be found. Edmund cried himself to sleep and awake several times with the most pitiful wounded sobs throughout the night. In desperation, I commandeered one of Spencer's teddy bears and gingerly placed it under his head. (Edmund usually uses Bunny as a pillow.) His little hand stroked the fur and a whiny gasp escaped his lips. Exhausted, the preschooler fell unto a fitful sleep accented by the staccato of hiccuped baby sobs.

When morning arose sans Bunny, Edmund was visibly crushed. Daddy, the Master Bunny Finder, had failed to save the day. I had bible study. So, I bundled all four of the children up with the promise that we would look for bunny some more after class. Perhaps, Edmund had left him in one of the stores we had visited the day before? I offered up a silent prayer that the little animal would be found. I didn't think that we could take another night like the one before.

Then, I asked the ladies in my class to pray. I know that it seemed silly when everyone else wanted prayer about heart surgery and cancer. But, I felt awful about how little confidence Edmund displayed without his side kick. He had had Bunny since birth, but didn't become attached to him until my stay in the hospital. A breastfeed baby, Edmund had been just over one and had never been away from mommy for anything more than Sunday school. Bunny became a little boy's lifeline during those uncertain times. Later, he became a lonely toddler's best pal, sharing secrets, tea parties, and secret spy missions to Mars in a bi-plane. Now, Bunny was missing.

We had spent the early afternoon retracing our steps. Edmund seemed sad about the possibility that bunny might be gone. We had to take my nieces to Smart Toys and Books to pick up an item. He didn't even try to buy anything. However, when we got home around 4, his father was there. My husband, Robert, said that it hurt is heart to have Edmund heartbroken. He left work earlier than usual to search for the missing lovey.

Edmund saw his father when I opened the kitchen door and ran into his arms. After a big hug, my big lug reached into his back pocket and produced the battered stuffed animal. Edmund squealed and showered Robert's face with preschool kisses between declarations that daddy was his hero. He kept repeating how much he loved his father. Robert told him that he loved him too that each of his boys were worth any trouble that he had to go through or money he might have given up. I thought of him scouring the backyard at 12:30 at night, and up at 5 the next morning, then leaving work early to give a moment of happiness and security to his son. Waiting with open arms to embrace his child before he revealed the day's blessing...

Older women are always telling me that as parents we are the ambassadors of Christ in their little lives. I rarely feel that or see it. But, yesterday afternoon, I did. How like the Heavenly Father Robert was at that moment... Working on our behalf, orchestrating our world to work His will for His Greater Good, ordering the whole of the universe yet joyfully sitting that aside when we approach His throne in prayer, and longingly awaiting our return with open arms full of His Blessings if only we turn to Him! Praise be to God for the life lesson he gave to me and the lesson of faith He has bestowed upon our small son! The working of His hands are everywhere. May we have the mind to see His Works.

Luke 11 9So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 10For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. 11Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? 12Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? 13If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!

The American

A tiny hand knocked on the hull of the demasted sloop. A Dutch father and his son stood on the walkway of the canal, holding hands, looking hopeful...

"My son would have you tell him about America," the father said pointing to the American flag on the stern. The son, suddenly shy, partially hid behind his father's knee with a grubby thumb in his mouth. "Tell him about your flag, her story."

The request took me aback. Their questions told me that they knew the basics, probably more than a number of the folks back home. I scanned the Provence countryside as I tried to think of an interesting story to tell. I wish that I could say that I told them something profound or obscure. I wish I had told them Bob Heft's story. I didn't. Actually, looking back, I can't remember what I said. I just remember thinking that to them, I was "the American".

I never felt more American than when I was abroad. In Mexico, a train porter would smile and say 'Elvis' while pointing to a Jack Daniels bottle when I mentioned that I was from Tennessee. A day's hike yielded the area's lone ex-patriot with an invitation to my July 4Th dinner in the marina near the salt marshes of France. (He brought wine.) An impromptu visit to a WWF outpost near Sardinia brought out the director to thank me for allowing our country to support the cause of whales. (Where else would a $20 donation get you such service?)

Everywhere I went, people saw me in light of our standard. They asked me about US policy, our traditions, our music...Foreigners didn't see our imperfections or divisions. Foreigners saw America. In return, I began to want to see America through their eyes, a mythological place of promise, generosity and opportunity.

It has been more than half a decade since I stood in the cockpit on the canal du midi and read the Declaration of Independence to a rapt international crowd docked in a small marina. But, each Independence Day, I recall that moment with a smile. I know that somewhere in the world, a little boy will remember the day that his father took him to see the American. And, he endeavored in his heart to come to America.

Listen to the Declaration of Independence here.