A Bunny Named Spectacular

I had a bad feeling about things, so I rested my hand as gently as I could on the tiny rabbit in my lap and began to pray.

“Lord, if this tiny animal is in any pain, take that pain away. Show me what to do to help. But if not, God….somehow be glorified in this situation.”

All around, it was a strange situation. That morning’s sunlight had been so beautiful that I wandered around to the back of the house to take some pictures before I began my work of the day. As soon as I rounded the corner, though, I spotted a tiny brown ball of fur huddled against the back of the house. His fur had cobwebs and dirt in it, and though he wasn’t moving much, he didn’t have any visible wounds or issues. He didn’t shy away from me, though, or flinch when I picked him up. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I did know I couldn’t leave him in the back yard in that condition.


I gingerly brought him inside and nestled him in a small box with some soft washcloths to keep him warm. I giggled as I realized which box I had randomly grabbed: a leftover box from someone’s Christmas gift, with the words, “Hello! My name is SPECTACULAR!” scrawled across the inside lid. I brought Mr. Spectacular into the kitchen, where I prepared a salad bar fit for a king: lettuce, shredded carrots, radishes, cabbage, a sliced strawberry, a blackberry, and even some grass and clover from the yard. I nestled his breakfast and some water into the box with him and hoped for the best.

His body temperature never did seem to rise, though, and even though he rallied for awhile and hopped around my desk, I wasn’t able to save him. Just a few minutes after I had prayed for him, he nestled against my chest, squeaked a tiny squeak, and stopped breathing. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t cry. I did, and have several times since then.

Mr. Spectacular was a pretty sweet little thing, and I wanted desperately to be able to save him. I knew his chances of survival were pretty slim, simply because God alone knew the issues he was dealing with and how it was that he came to be where he was and in the condition he was. As hard it was, I had to face the reality that the laws of nature sometimes surpass our best intentions and highest hopes and greatest efforts.


But it was strangely hard to let go of the tiny bunny who had besieged my Monday morning and waylaid my plans for the day. I had wanted him to live. I had wanted to save him. I had wanted to have a success story to outweigh the other sad stories of animals I’ve tried to rescue. But that wasn’t to be, and as I nestled him back into the box I would later bury him in, I whispered, “I tried, little guy. I’m sorry.”

{Deep breaths. I won’t cry again. I won’t.}

While it might seem silly, and while there are many, many much more serious issues in the world, Mr. Spectacular showed me something about God. Because for one thing, as my friend Jessica pointed out, how much must God love me, if I was able to love this random rabbit that much? But I also learned in a new way that sometimes, no matter how much I want to take control and decide the outcome of a particular situation and let things all end up the way I’m most comfortable with, I have to let go and just let God be God. Sometimes it’s just not up to me. And sometimes I need to be okay with that.


Do I know why that tiny bunny had to die? No.

Do I know the point of God letting me find him that morning? No.

Do I know why any of that had to happen? No.

There’s just a lot that I don’t know, about a lot of things. That could overwhelm me, but I choose instead to be overwhelmed by what I do know.

I do know who God is. I know that He is good, and I know that He loves me. I know that my loving Father doesn’t let things happen to me just for the sake of hurting me or making me cry. I know that nothing is ever allowed to filter through His hands into my life without His promise of using it for good – in my life and for His glory.

So even as I cradled Mr. Spectacular in my hands yesterday and prayed for his recovery, I knew that God was carrying out a plan. I hoped for one thing and got another. I don’t know why it had to go that way, and I don’t know what God wants to accomplish in me through that morning’s sadness. I do know, though, that in the face of my absolute lack of control, I have the opportunity to remember the one assurance we can rest on.

God is in control. All the time, and in every situation.

When things don’t go the way we want them to and we don’t understand and we want to hold on with a white-knuckle death grip in order to rein in all of the unknown variables of our lives, God is in control. And if God is in control, that means we don’t have to be.

I had prayed that my little bunny friend would be healed and would be okay, but I had also prayed for God to somehow be glorified no matter what. So God, from my unclenched fists to Your heart: I give You control of my everything. May my readers and I believe that You are trustworthy, and may our lives reflect unwavering trust in Your goodness. Let us be overwhelmed by what we do know in the face of all that we don’t.

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