How I Find Peace When Bunnies and Sparrows Fall

Finding peace in nature’s sad situations isn’t easy…

While I’ve considered thoughts about my being a fraud, the question and answer of how I find peace when bunnies and sparrows fall have piqued my brain once again.

I’m not the equal-opportunity nature lover I thought I was. This summer has proven that fact too many times. Nausea rises as I tap my computer keys. Coming clean isn’t easy. If I happen to see that slimy, slithering beast or his fellow fanged henchmen (or the many predatory species I’ve left out of this story) harm bunnies or birdies, my now slightly dormant momma instinct might rise within me once again. I’m just saying. It could. Not that I’ve intentionally killed anything—Well, other than spiders. But could I?

Sneaky snakes and the not-so-wonderful order of things

This topic may seem trivial or ridiculous. Well, God knows I could write about cancer and heart attacks and betrayal, addictions, fear of—and walking in—the valley, or even in the shadow of death. See? There are a million other negative things that tore pieces of my soul to shreds. At times, I’ve touched on those personal chapters of my story. But not today.

Today is all about figuring out how to trust the not-so-wonderful-sometimes order of things and my heavenly Father’s way of allowing sneaky snakes to prey on defenseless, adorable birds and other creatures in my backyard.

A text to my daughter-in-law:

Me: Since you’re a nature lover too, I had to reach out. So… I kind of stepped on the mulchy house of this tiny bunny in my garden. I didn’t even see him. He was hiding under a mound of mulch when he screeched. I scooped up the stunned bunny as he hobbled toward a nearby azalea bush. I set him under that bush, and then he hopped away.

Val: I’m sure he’ll be okay.

Questions and thoughts about his safety invaded my mind.

• Should I have kept him in a box with some grass?
• He fits inside the palm of my hand. He probably still needs his momma’s milk.
• Will he enjoy the tiny bits of carrot, celery, and cucumber I left for him?
• I can’t leave him alone out there.

Who cares for the least of these?

I didn’t choose to be the way I am. I’ve struggled with questions and wrestled with God a bit lately, especially regarding the subject of the least of these—

While I know He created humans above animals, His love, compassion, and kindness extend to defenseless babies of all sorts. Uncomfortable as it is for me to see wild animals become prey, I don’t have to fully understand God’s love for them to fully trust Him. God’s ways are not my ways. Still, I say Hallelujah. But please don’t let me see these things.

O Lord my God, You and Your love are greater than what my feeble mind can ever think or imagine.

Psalm 104 ESV

Finding peace or losing faith?

I’m sharing these thoughts because whenever I lean on my own understanding of why terrible things happen to defenseless creatures, I don’t always agree with God’s ways. While my faith and trust in Him as Elohim, the God Most High remains steadfast, I’m not going to lie and say I understand (or like) the pecking order of things.

Lean not on your own understanding…

Proverbs 3:5-6

When bunnies and sparrows fall

I’d describe last summer as a gardener’s dream. Wildlife everywhere sharing the love. No gore—or at least I didn’t see any. But this summer? Quite the opposite.

I’ve…

• Watched tiny birds fall out of their nest to suffer before they sleep. Crows (who are supposed to be my friends) demolished a nest and all its inhabitants on my front porch ceiling fan—and worse—
• Witnessed an ugly, four-foot snake slither near our steps to hunt baby birds and bunnies in my garden.
• Spread green soap shavings everywhere because a brand-name snake repellant didn’t do bupkis to get rid of them.
• Spied a smaller black snake slinking around by my outdoor patio furniture. What if he gets under the cushions? Oh God no!
•  Stopped one of those scary stalkings by throwing a large river rock at the culprit. Of course, I missed him, but my point is I want him gone. Forever. Hubby disagrees. He says rat snakes are great to have around.
• Never agreed with him on that matter.

The next day and text #2:

Me: Hi Val. Here’s another baby bunny update: While watering the front garden this morning, I noticed the tiny baby bunny poke his ears and then his head through one of the small evergreen edging plants near the road. Then, I saw another tiny bunny running with his ears straight back!

This made me think about last night when I carried one bunny in the house because the creepy snake was about to eat him—I thought the little white spot on his head was much smaller than it was today when I found him after he hopped off the garden wall. Yikes. Long story.

So, chances are I had two different bunnies in my house yesterday. I think the one who slept over was not the original one because his ears were fluffy and floppy and this other little guy’s ears are pointy and straight up. This is crazy. Lol.

            Val: It’s a bunny palooza!

            Me: Yay! Except for the fact we also have a snake-y-palooza.

Look for the calm in your storm

We’ve all heard the terms ‘lull’, or ‘the calm before the storm’. When I consider this summer’s wildlife chaos on our property, the meaning, and thoughts about how I might find peace in any storm—or the lack thereof come to mind.

A few days after I cleaned the porch and tearfully discarded all remaining bird nest remnants, I consoled myself with a trip to my local garden supply store and ordered a few more roses online.

Choose hope

The bunny episode is over. They’re fine. I’m sure I’ll see them hopping around my new roses soon enough.

While digging and planting, my husband came outside from his office to warn me about a weather notification predicting an incoming severe thunderstorm.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?” He glared at me with the I know you too well to believe you look. “This one could be dangerous, so hurry.”  

Into the ever-changing

“I’ll be right in.” I patted the mound of compost and mulched the last of my roses as lightning flashed and danced across the lake below our cabin. I threw my shovel and gloves into my wheelbarrow when, only seconds later, non-stop claps of thunder and menacing winds collided with our mountain.

The massive floor-to-ceiling windows in our log cabin usually invite us to enjoy incredible views of Lake Chatuge’s shapely fingers. The Appalachian Mountain’s vivid hues of green reaching toward Carolina’s taller Blue Ridges and beyond Tennessee’s Smokies are amazing. This daily scene is mesmerizing. Everchanging. And sometimes…wicked.

Who controls the wind and waves?

Like a menacing foe, this storm resembled a monster. Threatened disaster. Snapped huge oaks along our mountain. Debris everywhere. Fear rose and then fell within my prayers while trees swayed like rocking horses. All was completely calm an hour later. The damage was considerable but could have been so much worse. I walked out onto our back porch and breathe in the quiet before we gathered with neighbors to remove a few smaller downed trees.

I realized it wasn’t long ago when my blood pressure rose with a different type of fear. Just as I can’t control present or future winds or storms or losses, I also couldn’t control the natural order of living with nature or those three (or more) snakes that made their home in my yard this summer.

When God gives and takes away

Let’s lean into the truth of God’s word. God gives and takes. My hope is not only for an abundant future—because the stuff of this world will fade. But there will be a day when all that remains is praise.

Like the Peacemaker

I pray God continues to move in me for many years to come. I believe compassion is powerful. Loving actions speak louder than words—or pelting rain. After all, each breath we breathe is proof of His faithfulness. No matter the circumstances we endure—because enduring when we don’t understand is one of the keys to finding peace that surpasses human understanding. It’s also how I find peace when bunnies and sparrows fall.

Remember. Hope. Believe.

Might remembering or journaling our way through disappointing days or seasons of our lives help us heal, move forward, or encourage others while they wade through lake-sized puddles? What if times when the rain came down in what seemed like unending buckets were opportunities for us to grow more compassionate? And most of all, what if holding on to hope (the bunnies are alive), and believing in miracles like God first gave us through His Son Jesus, are examples we can always look to when in search of peace?

Isn’t that good news worth sharing?

Dear friends,

Disappointments and storms will come. They can shake our faith and remind us we’re all only a vapor in the wind. I hope to never forget God’s unwavering love for us… because even when it seems like His eyes aren’t on us, they are.

Wishing you joy and hoping you find peace on your journey,

~ Joann

Thanks to Pixabay for free use of all images. Feature Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay, #1 Image by Susann Mielke from Pixabay, #2 Image by llh from Pixabay, #3 Image by Enrique from Pixabay