“I suppose I should take a picture of you,” I said to Tuga, pulling him out of my pocket yesterday while I walked around town.
He said nothing, which felt almost like a dare. I dare you to take pictures of a plastic rabbit. Won’t you look foolish!
Ah, but I knew better. I was on the last leg of my walk, going down the path. Nobody walks on the path, especially after it rains because of the mud and it had just rained. I doubted anyone would see me photographing my plastic bunny.
I set him in a dry patch of grass.
He laid his ears back and didn’t look happy.
Oh, wait, his ears are always back.
He’s not supposed to be happy.
“Tuga,” I said, “you’re supposed to teach me something this Lent.”
I was hoping for a little more cooperation.
“How about you look out at the river?” I said, moving him a little and stepping back. I was thinking of the scene from Watershed Down where the rabbits must escape across the river.
But the blue sky with its big puffy clouds reflected so beautifully in the water that I took another step back to include it. Tuga, my little sorrowing bunny, all but got lost in the shot.
It struck me — isn’t that the way it is with sorrow? In the bigness and busy-ness of life, the sorrowing one can get lost.
I picked him up and tucked him in pocket, knowing I would have to ponder that a little more.
When I reached the stone bridge, I set Tuga on a parapet.
He looked rather lost in there, too. So small.
That’s when I saw the man on the stone bridge talking on his cell phone. We briefly made eye contact before I grabbed Tuga and stuffed him in my pocket again, hurrying on down the path.
Once again, I was struck by the picture of sorrow. How often do sorrowing people stuff their emotions away because they’re embarrassed or self-conscious?
If nothing else, Tuga is teaching me an awareness for the sorrowful. In my own busyness, I may pass them by, or, in their self-consciousness, they may hide their feelings.
Lord, make me more aware!
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 
Fantastic post. I do think that your being self-conscious of being seen taking pictures is a good indication that you might have problems on Ellen, but I think it would be alright. I love how Tuga looks as though he is imprisoned on the parapet and he is lost when we’re distracted by the beauty of the water. You are right, we all need to be more aware of those suffering in silence. Thanks for the inspiration.
I’m not usually self-conscious taking pictures, but, you know, I was taking pictures of a plastic rabbit?!
I could picture some child stopping, looking, and asking, “Mommy, why is that lady taking pictures of little plastic bunny?” and the mother answering, “I don’t know, but let’s cross the street here and give her lots of space.” 🙂
Well, I can’t comment. I have taken plenty of pictures of plastic flamingos.
Odd how a plastic rabbit can give insight!
really.