Little Bunny Foo Foo

It was Easter 1979.  The kids down the road were raising rabbits to sell, and they talked me into buying one for my little sister, Julie.

In the days immediately following Easter, she would excitedly rush home from elementary school to play with the baby bunny.  The way she treated that animal would have you believe that all she ever wanted in the whole world was a baby bunny.

There were daily bunny tea parties, bunny dress-up galas, bunny parades, and hare balls (rimshot).

Two weeks later, the rabbit became ill.  Julie didn't seem to notice, but it became progressively worse.  The bunny was dying.  My dad asked me to take care of the bunny the next day, before Julie came home from school.  

Now, my interpretation of "take care of the bunny" differed a little from Dad's, who apparently once belonged to the Mafia.  When I took the little ball of fur outside behind the barn, I just couldn't bring myself to "take care of the bunny."  Instead, I put it in a large wooden box behind the saddle house, promising myself I would return to bury it after it died.

But I forgot.

I did, however, tell Julie that the baby bunny missed its mommy, and the mommy bunny came to pick it up while she was at school. Although she was understandably upset, she bought the story.

Problem solved.  (Except for that part about remembering to bury the bunny.)

Three months later, Julie invited me outside for a little game of hide-and-seek.  I began to count to twenty, while she ran off to hide behind... the saddle house.

Before I reached "twenty," I heard the high-pitched scream.

I have seen third-world cultures on the Discovery Channel in which the natives adhere to the practice of wailing when someone dies.  I have seen hundreds of scary movies with shrieking girls, screaming zombies and screeching monsters.  I even had my phone ring in my ear one time (with the volume on high) when I thought I pressed the "answer" button.

But nothing compared to the sound I heard that day.

I took off at full speed toward the saddle house.  Julie came running at full speed from behind the saddle house.  The first thought that came to my mind was, "Gee, I didn't know first-graders could run so fast."  She blew right past me, making her way to the house and the comfort of Mom.  And Dad.

My life flashed before my eyes.  It was Golden Rule Number One in our home that when Dad told you to do something, you did it.  No excuses.  Golden Rule Number Two was that you just didn't upset his baby girl.

I checked the wooden box behind the saddle house.  Yup.  Dead bunny bones.  Julie had found them and put two-and-two together.

Since Easter 1979, I have referred to this day as The Day Julie Learned About Death.

My father was not pleased with me, but I think he knew the sorrow (and terror) I caused my little sister was punishment enough.

On the upside, though, I think the experience taught me some valuable lessons that I've tried to apply to my life:

• Do what you say you're going to do.  Proverbs 11:3 says, “The integrity of the honest keeps them on track....”  Following through, I think, is one of the earmarks of integrity.  If you think you gotten off track somewhere along the line, check your integrity.
• Think through the repercussions of your actions.  Proverbs 14:15 says, “A simple man believes anything, but a prudent man gives thought to his steps.”  Most people I know who’ve gotten into hot water generally didn’t think things through before they acted.  Most of us would do well to look twice before we leap.
• Never dress up a bunny in cute little costumes.  It’s probably in the Bible somewhere -- I just can’t find it.

Blessings -

Skip

The Purple Ink Buzz

I recently led a seminar in Mentoring in which the discussion eventually got around to church involvement.  It seems like we're all always looking for the latest gadget, newest idea, or magic pill to get our members involved and engaged in church activities.

I mentioned to the group that I could still remember the days of mimeograph.  (For those of you under the age of 30, look it up.)  Mimeograph was a way of producing duplicates or copies of documents.  It used purple ink.  It was messy.  And a deep breath of the still-wet ink would give a third grader the greatest buzz known to man (or at least third graders.)

Mimeograph was how we communicated at the time.  We used it for making copies of tests in school, copies of church newsletters, and copies of flyers announcing meetings, dinners and special events.  (There's a scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High with the ink-sniffing thing.  If you've never seen the movie, stop what you're doing right now, and go watch it.  We'll wait for you...)

Back already?  Wipe that popcorn off your shirt.

Anyway, mimeograph was eventually replaced by the copy machine, once it was made affordable to the general public.  Now we had a faster, more efficient, less messy way of communicating with the rest of the world regarding our meetings, dinners and special events.

And guess what happened next?  We discovered that if you used colored paper, even more people would pay attention to your flyers.  

"Pure genius!"

"It's so crazy, it just might work!"

And work, it did.  For a while, anyway.

Next came butcher paper and the huge paintbrush markers.  Then we all ran out and bought poster machines and button makers.  Soon after, along came email.  Blinking LED message boards.  Vinyl banners.  T-shirts that said, "Ask me about my church!"  MySpace.  FaceBook.  Blogs.  V-blogs.  Text messages.

And the list goes on.

And we still wonder why there are empty seats at our services and events.

You see, I think we've come full circle in this whole how-can-I-get-your-attention thing.  The best way I know to put hineys in seats is by sending myself on a mission.

The mission?  Meet people.  Shake hands.  Personally invite them.

We've come full circle and landed right back at relationships.

There’s an old leadership formula that says:  Leadership = Relationship + Influence.  Personally, I think Relationship = Influence.  If you want to influence someone, you’d better have a relationship with them.  But somewhere along the way, we were distracted by colored paper, vinyl banners and blinking lights.

Skip's Challenge of the Week:

Take the time to forge relationships and invest in other people, especially when it comes to helping others have a relationship with Christ.  It’s called discipling.

It'll pay off in the long run.

And what do you have to lose?

Only a purple ink buzz.

Blessings -

Skip

A Camping We Will Go...

Mention church camp to me now (as an adult,) and it has an entirely different meaning than when I was a kid.  Back then, my parents would ship me off to a Baptist camp in Oklahoma, and we weren’t even Baptists.

I remember the long, hot summer hours we spent each night in the “tabernacle” as a visiting evangelist called for “every head bowed and every eye closed” as we sang 27 verses of Just As I Am.  One night, my buddies and I drew straws and the loser had to go forward, just so we could get out of there.  I lost.

I still feel a twinge of guilt when I think about that night, and the fact that my coming forward during the altar call wasn’t quite sincere.  I think I even feel more guilt when I think about all the times we held hands in a prayer circle at camp.  Someone would pray, and when they had said about all they could say, they would squeeze the hand of the next person, then that person would pray.  Every time they squeezed my hand, I would say, “Pass.”

Oh well.  I guess we all have regrets.

One thing I will never regret, however, is taking the kids to camp as an adult.  I L-O-V-E- it.  And I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in... wherever they keep tea.  To be honest, I don’t even really think about the kids.  I think about me.  Me, me, me.  And all the fun I’m going to have with the other pastors and youth pastors.

But don’t tell my youth group.  They think I’m sacrificing just for them.  It’ll be our little secret.

Please keep our youth (and me) in your prayers.  We head to camp in Kansas City July 8 - 13.

While you’re at it, specifically pray for no “altar call fake-outs” and no “passing.”

Mucho blessings -

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