A Mid-Life Transition and a Rabbit

When I first got married many years ago I lived in a 100-year-old farm house. It was the kind of house that had intense character and charm. By this I mean it had no closets at all, not one, and the basement had a dirt floor. The floors were crooked and none of the doors could close all the way. The staircase opening was so low and narrow a double bed mattress could not fit through it and we struggled with roof maintenance, having regular heat, and proper plumbing for modern day appliances.

Nevertheless we loved our picturesque farmhouse and so we filled it with antiques and farm tools, kitchen gadgets from the 40’s and 50’s and an assortment of cozy and comfortable furnishings. All that was missing was the rabbit.

I really wanted a rabbit.
I envisioned taking care of a cute little bunny who would “hang out” in a cute little gingerbread-style rabbit hutch painted in country colors in the back yard.

I even had a great place for the hutch, nestled amongst the newly thriving wildflower garden of cosmos, purple coneflower, blackeyed susan, phlox, and more. For me, the idea of a rabbit in a hutch would complete our country home without having to actually do any farming. Afterall, we were smack dab in the middle of Chicago suburbia!

But, alas, there were many arguments made against having a rabbit and so the dream passed and within four years time, tired of repairing gutters and windows that wouldn’t properly open or close, we sold the “old” farmhouse and bought a “new” one in a progressive conservation community on an Illinois prairie.

The new farmhouse was made with energy efficient construction in a low density subdivision plan. The community boasted its own charter school and an organic farm complete with a wind turbine. There was mandatory composting and recycling and every home had open views of prairies of tall grasses, wildflowers, lakes and farm land. Surely, I thought, it was time for me to have my rabbit in this perfect environment!

Unfortunately, the constant threat of coyotes, I was told, made having a rabbit in a hutch a dangerous endeavor and a near certainty predicting the rabbit’s demise. And without even the slightest bit of subtlety, I was told by various people that I would hate taking care of the rabbit, I would hate cleaning out the hutch–which would be required daily, and I would hate that rabbits have to have their teeth filed–and what was I going to do about all that, huh? I would even get tired of and eventually hate feeding the rabbit!! they said. And what about the excessive Chicago summer heat with the poor rabbit all cooped up in a wooden hutch? The naysayers went on and on until once again the idea of having a rabbit came and went.

By now you might be asking why I was so predisposed to have a rabbit, especially since I was a suburban girl and had never ever visited a working farm or had any pets other than a family dog. I really cannot tell you why. I just know that I wanted one. I really couldn’t articulate the reason why then and still not now. I just knew that somehow I was yearning for one. And somehow I was always told by someone else that I could not have one.

Many years passed and with them came many changes. Our beautiful son grew, careers took hold, life got routinized, dreams were abandoned in favor of getting through the busy days, vacations were rare, communication lagged, relationships suffered, and then one day I woke up and realized it was time for a new life, a new birth, a new beginning. My husband and I divorced after 17 years of marriage and we each moved to new homes.

Times were tough during that transition. There was a lot of fear and worry. And so many questions:

• Can I take care of myself?
• Will I be safe living on my own?
• Will I be able to handle what comes my way?
• Will I thrive?
• Will I be able to resurrect what I have lost?
• Will I be able to handle being competely alone?

It was time to find out.

I moved to one-half of a duplex in a high density subdivision in the suburbs of Chicago. The duplex was and is perfect for my 11 year old son and I. It offered us beautiful interior colors and a third extra bedroom I could convert into an art studio to support my now newly re-discovered need to draw Pinwheel Girls. The back yard boasted a wood fence painted gray, a large deck, and a retractible sun shade over it. My kitchen window overlooks a stunningly gorgeous open space that many people mistakenly think is part of a golf course. Mature trees are everywhere. There is a pool and a golf course, basketball hoops, and bike paths. When I purchased it, I knew it would be perfect for me and my son for our new life.

Interestingly, not even a year in the duplex I saw I had a co-resident hanging out with my son and I in the backyard.

She arrived on Easter Sunday–of all miracles.

A rabbit. Plump, soft, thriving, complete with a cottony cottontail.

Easter: a symbolic holiday for rabbits embodying the idea of new life and resurrection from the dead.

Three years later she is still with us.

She lives under the deck. Every morning she comes out for her daily munchies of dandelion leaves. Then she lays around in the sun all sprawled out, relaxing and sunbathing as any good rabbit would do. As afternoon arrives, she rests under the shade of the tall pine tree. We love to see her hopping all over the yard, her little white cottonball of a tail frolicking behind her.

Last year she birthed baby bunnies for us to enjoy and they imitated their momma’s behavior just perfectly. Imagine our delight to see momma bunny and baby bunnies romping around the yard!

I have photographed her and my son and I sit on the deck and chat with her, coo to her, and feed her shredded carrots and lettuce in the summer. Every morning I look for her out my kitchen window and my heart soars to see her hopping or lying around…munching on the tall grass and weeds that try to pass themselves off as a lawn at my house.

So with all this rabbit energy surrounding me and my little duplex I decided to research the symbolism of the rabbit. What I discovered amazed and touched me so deeply. I knew then that the other times in my life when I had yearned for a rabbit were not the right times to receive one.

Native Americans believed that the rabbit stood for fear. They also represent fertility and new life.

As we all know, a rabbit is prey for many animals. Yet, it is equipped with the gifts of very high speed and agility to outrun predators as well as the ability to reproduce itself in high numbers to preserve itself as a species. When a rabbit hears or senses the threat of danger, what does it do? It runs!! Fast!

They also have the amazing ability to stop and start, twist and turn in their path, and change directions with lightning speed.

The rabbit can also make great leaps and hops. Hmmmm.

The rabbit is also considered the sacred animal of the Greek goddess, Hecate, who ruled over women’s transitions. Learning this was like receiving a lightning bolt to my head. I was right in the middle of managing a major life transition–ending a long marriage, beginning life as a single, mid-life woman and, now for the first time, a single mom, too. I even had a small porcelain statue of Hecate in my living room to honor the transition I was experiencing. I was indeed crafting a new life for myself and my son.Powerful medicine this little rabbit is.

And so as I researched, I found that the lesson of the rabbit coming into your life is for you to stop demonstrating so much fear and to stop talking about it.Afterall, what you fear most is what you will become. When a rabbit shows up in your life, it is a sign to tell you to stop worrying, to stop saying “What if this tragedy happens” and “what if that horrible thing happens” and, in my case, to stop saying “What if I can’t handle this?” and “What if I have done the wrong thing?” and “What if I really can’t take care of myself after all these years?”

The rabbit wants you to instead focus on how there is always a way out in every situation, or problem, or with every fear you face.

So now when I see my little rabbit, who I finally have as one of my companions, I know now why I had to wait 17 years for her. I didn’t need her before. I needed her at just the right time that she arrived. She came when I had to deeply examine my fears. When I had to cast them aside and take my life into my own control. When I had to forge ahead with leaps and hops. When I had to create a new beginning, a new birth, for myself. She came when I could be open to what she had to show me.

The Universe works with us and for us, not against us. And there are teachers everywhere. Even in my little rabbit who lives under the deck.

She requires no hutch, no special care, no worries from me about the heat or about coyotes. She requires only that I pay attention to the gifts I am given from the Universe…and to learn from them. She has become one of my greatest teachers in my life to date. She with the little cottontail.