Sometimes I’m astounded by the stupid things that are taking up space in my brain.
Like “rabbit, rabbit” for instance. It’s a phrase my fourth-grade teacher taught us to say on the first of every month so that we’d supposedly have good luck for the rest of the month. How’s that working for me? Some months, not so well.
It’s been more than 600 months since I was in the fourth grade. That’s a lot of “rabbit, rabbits.” Why do I still compulsively think of this silly phrase on the first of almost every month? Fear, perhaps. My teacher, Inez Miller, was pretty old and mighty scary, so when she told us to say “rabbit, rabbit,’” we didn’t ask why, we just did it. Fear plows a deep row.
Recently, on the first of a month, I looked at my husband and dutifully said, “Rabbit, rabbit.” Joe is accustomed to my quirky ways, but for some reason, this time he questioned me about it.
“So did your teacher MAKE you say that or was it just a suggestion?” he asked.
“All I remember is that Inez Miller was terrifying and crossing her never ended well for anyone in our class,” I answered.
“Did she only make YOU do it, or the whole class?”’
It was very unusual for my normally uncurious husband to be asking these questions. I wondered if he thought I’d fallen under some kind of creepy curse and might be in need of a good exorcism. But since I’ve been trying to get him to ask me questions about, well, anything, for 40 years, I didn’t want to discourage him now.
I did, however, roll my eyes just a wee bit as I answered, “Of course she told the whole class to do it. I would’ve been totally freaked out if she’d taken me aside and whispered, ‘Say “rabbit, rabbit,”’ little girl.’”
“Oh, okay,” Joe said. “It’s just weird that you’re still saying it all these years later.”
He’s right about that. It is weird. But not totally useless, as there are a couple of lessons to be gleaned from my “rabbit, rabbit” compulsion.
First, although Mrs. Miller is surely long gone from this earth, her legacy lives on. “Rabbit, rabbit” is definitely a weird and pointless legacy, but it reminds me that others are watching our lives and listening to our words, and what we do and what we say may be making a lasting imprint. What will that imprint be?
I’d like for others to remember me fondly after I’m gone, but mostly I want my life to have expressed the love, grace and truth of Jesus Christ. With all my heart, I want to have proclaimed the excellencies of Him who called me out of darkness into His marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9) and to have lived my life in a way that represented well the heart of the God I claimed to love. I want that to be my legacy.
My second lesson from this crazy “rabbit, rabbit” thing is how important it is to question things we mindlessly believe or do. It’s good to take stock and ask, “Why am I still going through these pointless motions, pursuing this shallow goal or believing what I believe?” No telling how many “rabbit, rabbits” we’re likely to find in our mental pantries—useless stuff taking up valuable space. Might be time to throw a few out.
Old rabbit habits die hard, but I’m letting this one go. I don’t need bogus “rabbit, rabbit” luck. I need “Jesus, Jesus” grace.
“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work (2 Corinthians 9:8).”