The Day After Christmas

I woke up this morning to the sound of thunder. A loud crash of sound accompanied by a deluge of rain sharpened my senses. I peered out of the window to make sure the world hadn’t ended and groggily fumbled for my glasses. As the rainy world before me came into focus, I sighed. I had hoped for snow this Christmas.

But I quickly remembered, Christmas is over. The gifts have all been opened. The sweet treats have been consumed. (Who am I kidding? We still have a gazillion left to consume or sneak into the trash when no one is looking). My children rumble around the house with their assortment of creatures and toys. Everyone is happy, but I feel this sort of discontent in my spirit.

I assumed it was the excess sugar I consumed yesterday and began my strength training regimen. Abdominal crunches. Excruciating butt lifts. Planks, lunges, squats and weights. But the malaise lingered. That is, until my friend Laddie hopped over to visit with me. I rescued this rabbit from a woman on Craiglist a number of years ago. He is a Holland lop and weighs all of 2 pounds. He makes strength training fun because he hops all around my mat and tries to cuddle with me. He insists that I pet him and nuzzle him. If I don’t, he nips me or attacks my mat with his paws–digging and tugging with his sharp teeth. Sometimes I playfully swat him away, but not today. Today I just stopped and kissed the top of his head. So he repaid the favor and licked my nose, and we cuddled. I snapped a picture of him mid-bliss. There is nothing he loves more than when I cuddle with him.

And in that moment I just felt safe and warm. Because of a sometimes ornery, often bewildering, mostly lovable rabbit.

On Christmas day my husband’s father came to visit. In his youth he worked at The Humane Society. He began to tell us tales of his experiences there and it was heart-wrenching. He spoke of the people who dropped off puppies in boxes and asked, “These will get adopted, right?” He said the staff would say, “We can’t make any promises, but we do our best. Then they would walk them to the back only to euthanize them because there wasn’t space to house them. There were just too many animals and not enough kennels. He spoke of injured animals and confiscations and cruel veterinarians who didn’t want to mess with “another stupid cat” so they would euthanize it. I looked at my rabbit and considered how fortunate he is, and how many are not. I thought about the kitten I saw at my vet’s office recently. A woman had picked it up(a stray) and brought it in because it was bleeding from the nose. Another casualty of man’s indifference to the animal kingdom. I thought about how so many people consider animals as amusement rather than a living creature that thrives or dies at our whims. And finally, I thought about the cat who loved me–a cat I had grown weary of–and how I sent it to the pound because I was ignorant and couldn’t figure out how to get rid of its fleas. What a broken, messed up, world I live in. And look at how I contribute to the mess.

How I long for this world to be redeemed. How I long to be redeemed.

I got what I wanted for Christmas. My oldest son is home for a brief stay. I got to see him graduate. But he leaves again in a few weeks. The satisfaction I feel in spending time with him is fleeting, just like every other Christmas present I have ever received. So today, as I feel this pensive, reflective contentment, I also feel the need for the permanent–the solid–the conclusion to my deferred happy ending.

I know I can’t save myself. I can’t save all the rabbits or kittens either. This is why I follow One who can. I know my life is temporal. I only have so many days and hours to live. And I know this world is a dark place, even if I do see light refracted through the clouds on a regular basis. So on this gloomy day when there are no leaves on the trees and my heart is a little heavy, I am glad that my hope is not in myself or in all of the distractions this world has to offer. Christmas may be over, but Christ is still risen.

On December 26, 2015   /   The Journey   /   Leave a comment