Depending on where I post this blog, it will either be ignored or be interesting. If the former, I get it - you may be looking for and needing writing and\or business wisdom. There are certainly worthy bloggers whose posts you may and can indulge in. If the latter, I'm pleased, glad I have given you something fruitful for reflection, perhaps even pointing to your current day and life.
I lately have had on my mind quite a few things that I've decided to post about today: * I keep thinking about the baby bunny that I killed a few weeks ago while mowing our lawn (http://stevesearswriter.weebly.com/inspirational/some-thoughts-this-week-prayers-for-a-baby-bunny). Every time I visit the bird feeder in our corner yard, I glance down at the tiny grave, which now is showing youthful grass. The sparrows, full of life, land on the fence nearby and the bush shadowing the grave. I and the sparrows continue to live; the bunny, just a few days old, barely knew life. * My wife, Lucille, gave me a wonderful Father's Day gift: a journal with paintings and pictures of birds and bird eggs on the front and back covers. A reminder of life and its beauty, and that, as a writer, I need to fill the empty pages of the journal with words. But what words? Article ideas? Daily entries about my writing days? Marketing ideas? Or maybe it should be a health journal, tracking my progress regarding workouts and nutrition? * Piggybacking on that last sentence, I wonder if and when my tummy fat will ever disappear and I will see any sight of ab muscles. Whether it be a cardiovascular or strength training regimen, as I perform my workout I ask myself, "Is this doing any good? When do I stop this current workout program, binge on unhealthy foods, and then start a new program?" I am like the gerbil on a wheel in its cage, spinning...spinning...spinning...in circles, around and around, never changing. And then there is this. I see someone with a bigger tummy than mine, and say, "Well, at least I'm not him!" Well, right now, I am him to someone else. I'm either the "big tummy guy" in the lens of the trim individual, or THE slim guys in the eyes of the more obese. What I should be focusing on is THIS guy - me. As football great Herschel Walker once said, "Run the race against yourself." There's nothing wrong with looking to others for inspiration, but sometimes the biggest inspiration is within my four walls -- being healthy for my wife and daughter -- and inside of me. * I'll piggyback again. I've been hearing lately about people suffering (and some dying from) a heart attack. I am approaching the 21st anniversary of my surviving a heart attack. July 30, 1996 was the day, my daughter Stefanie just five weeks away from starting kindergarten. I never want to feel that pain again! * Every time I tell people I am recently laid-off, some look at me as if total doom has crashed into my world. It's like I'm telling them my life is in peril or physical health has had a downturn. However, there are also those who wish me well, envision better things for me. In fact, a writing colleague of mine, predicting for me a blossoming freelancing future, called my current transition "exciting." Regarding the latter, it's all about faith, hope, and working hard. * Finally, our 16 1/2-year-old miniature dachshund, Little Lady, begins and ends my day. I walk her when I first wake up, and she sits on the couch with our family prior to my (and her) bedtime. Before I go upstairs, she looks at me, I pet her for a few minutes, and then she rewards me by licking my left hand and arm. The former dark hair around her eyes and snout have slowly turned to beige and white, and her vision isn't what it once was. Still she trudges on. Steve
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*Note: There is some sad, sensitive detail herein. -- Steve
I decided last Thursday, in lieu of this busy week and promised heatwave, to mow my lawn. Five minutes into my mowing, I accidentally killed a baby bunny. It was inevitable. The grass was high, and the bunny and its sibling could not be seen underneath and in the shade created by the Crepe Myrtle tree which soon will bloom and further beautify our yard. I went about my business and, when I saw a tiny gray body fly about two feet through the air, I thought and said, "Oh no." I stopped the mower, and silence ensued. I took a few steps, saw a tiny bunny grazing in the soft green grass, then about 6" further, saw another tiny gray and white bunny body, this one on its side and breathing heavy, guts having escaped through the wound in its lower body, fresh blood beginning to leak from its midsection, and much blood in the head area. I'll cease the gore here and ask that, before I continue, I need no advice or scolding from animal and rabbit lovers regarding what I should or shouldn't have done. Please refrain, if you feel encouraged to do so, from possibly criticizing my not checking the lawn beforehand, and the subsequent decision I made when the bunny breathed its last. Now I'll continue. I felt terrible. I knelt down and, as I did so, the surviving bunny leaped towards the fence that lines our yard and bolted through an opening, away from danger: me. The other bunny, its breathing now becoming more labored, I picked up, blood eventually covering my gardening gloves. Finally, it breathed its last, the tummy ceasing now to move up and down. As I looked at the bunny and considered what I'd done, I remembered how my Dad, when we lived in a more rural area in New Jersey, was one time mowing our lawn and killed a family of mice. I recalled him often speaking about it through the years, how bad he felt, and although a family of mice (or a mouse) are often looked upon with much annoyance and seem somewhat more of a pest and troublesome than a bunny, I could relate. This was a first for me. I paused for a few moments, and then my mind now turned to burial. I grabbed a rarely used shovel, two thin twigs, and headed to the spot in our yard that serves as a final resting place for baby and adult sparrows and a few other deceased bunnies: underneath our corner Forsythia bush. Large in height and width, it provides shade for a great portion of our side yard, and shields one from noisy traffic that zooms by on the busy street where our home sits. I placed the bunny down, and quickly dug with the shovel, following that up by scooping additional dirt from the earth with my gloved hands, seeking to make this grave, as I had with the prior ones, some source of comfort. The hole finally at a good depth, I slowly and softly placed the bunny down inside it, ensuring still that its life had ceased (and I wished that I could turn back time - had waited to do the lawn so that maybe the bunnies would have moved on safely), and made a cross from the two twigs, placing it atop the bunny. After that, while competing with but somewhat oblivious to sparrow tweets and car noise, I prayed: "Dear Lord, please pray for this bunny now with you in Heaven. It was an accident, Lord, but I feel so bad about it. All it wanted was fresh air, and I killed it. It never had a real chance of life here on earth, and now it's gone. May it play with the other bunnies that have been buried in this and other spots in our yard, and please forgive me, Lord." I followed this prayer up with an Our Father and Hail Mary, then covered the bunny with any dirt and stones I had dug up, and then placed another tiny cross on the grave. Since I had committed, albeit innocently, the act, I needed extra blessing for this quiet, shaded spot. So, what's the lesson here? I tried to grasp it as I started mowing again, but it took a while. It eventually unveiled itself to me. In life, we are going to lose something or someone. It could be a pet, a considerable bank account, a loved one, car, a client or business...whatever. And sometimes that is an awful feeling. There's maybe even a little guilt that permeates your being. The key is you rise -- as I did from my kneeling position after burying the bunny -- and get back to life. You must believe that, no matter how bad things seem, no matter how sad, the answer is not in staying down, but in rising, recalling what has gone before, honoring who and what was, and realizing that, for you (in this case me) you still have your time here. You do what you must. I did. During Saturday evening Mass, I received Holy Communion in honor of the baby bunny. We've both moved on. Steve |
Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
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