Tiny Miracles (in a Year That's Been Full Of Them)

(Psssst… This was sent to my lovely email community, who hears all the real stuff. Want to join and get the next one? Click here!)

I’ve been bottle-feeding a baby bunny for just over a week now.

I removed her from a cat’s mouth a few days after Easter. And, since then, “Squish” (due to the way she turns into a little bunny pancake while being pet) has been on a diet of kitten formula, baby kale and human cuddles.

The other day I let Squish out of her cage so she could exercise her cottontail legs around my parents’ small house. (She was still waddling instead of hopping; I figured it was time for spring training.)

This. Was. A. Huge. Mistake.

Squish somehow found a tiny gap in the underside of the kitchen cabinets – unbeknownst to all of us that this portal into empty space actually existed – and POOF. She lived up to her name, squishing into the beyond.

Neverland, Narnia, Platform 9 ¾ to Hogwarts… She went there.

The deliberation about whether to cut into my parents’ [brand new] kitchen cabinets to retrieve bun-bun lasted about an hour. (My mom had the drill out – I was in full support. We’re overly sensitive about our animals here.)

In the end, we decided to give her one night to come out. Dad’s influence… and Dad’s cabinets.

Come out?? Not gonna happen, I thought.

No way would she leave behind a dark, urban burrow – the closest thing to home, before she was pried out of it by feline jaws – and return to her new kitty-formula, organic kale, domesticated life.

The drill stayed close by.

Mom checked in the middle of the night. Dad checked twice. (Softie? Or worried about his cabinets? Maybe both.)

A photo of Squish in Darcy’s hands – her ears are finally up!

Around 6am I did my own sweep of the house after finding the enticing kale-trail devoured. And there Squish was, under the couch. Hallelujah.

It’s a little miracle she came out. And this year has been full of them.

There have been so many times where I’ve felt stripped of my own home burrow, just like Squish. And then, when I’m completely at my whisker’s end, something miraculous has happened.

Albeit, sometimes after I’ve totally lost my carrots. There’s been a lot of that, too.

And maybe it’s actually helped... Because in truth, solace has been found only after throwing my arms up in surrender. When I’ve finally gotten out of the way (my own way), let the universe dislodge me from the mossy riverbanks I was struggling to cling to, and move me downstream. Ahh.

During these times of surrender, I’ve also been taken by surprise:

By the generosity of community, the strength of family, and the love of a partner, as Darcy and I continue seeking and answering what it means to show up for one another.

(The latter looks very much like an awkward ballroom dance, leading when we can and then flopping against the other weekend-at-Bernie’s-style for support. It’s not sexy. But it’s 2021 and it’s real and true.)

And aside from turning my hands up and admitting I’m a control freak who needs to stop backseat driving the universe’s car, here’s the other big thing I keep reminding myself:

The best version of me always, always starts from within.

And I need to continue focusing on my own nourishment. This means burrowing into dark spaces – only to return when I’m ready – is a-oh-kay. As is having a good cry and then a laugh… and not feeling bad for either one.

So is not taking on every trauma of the world but walking alongside fellow beings in support; swapping a to-do list for a nap; continuing to strengthen personal boundaries; letting the universe co-create this beautifully messy life.

If you’re feeling like a bunny out of your burrow – if you’re looking to squish yourself into dark places and peace out from it all, if you’re in need of deep nourishment (through movement, sleep, a belly laugh, a good cry or space from everyone stuck at home…) – I feel you.

Keep showing up for you, first and foremost. Keep nourishing yourself and loving yourself. It’s the only way to make a difference in this lifetime.

It’s not selfish; it’s powerful. And when we do it, we’re storing miracles.