Crazy Bunny Lady

Because I live an unconventional life, it would only make sense for me to adopt a bunny as my pet of choice, as opposed to a dog or cat. I'm alergic to cats and I don't have the time or money to take care of a dog, but it turns out that a bunny is a perfect pet for my lifestyle.

I'm pretty sure many people think that owning a bunny in the city is odd, maybe because they associate bunnies with farms or whatever. Well, I'd like to introduce the world to my Doodles. I adopted her on August 6th from Red Door Animal Shelter. She is an adorable bun with a fun and feisty personality and I love her more than words can describe. And while barn hay has become a very large and messy part of my everyday existence, I maintain that Doodles is very urban chic. After all, she was found fending for herself on the harsh streets of Chicago, making her a strong and independent little lady. She was most likely a bunny that was (irresponsibly) given to some spoiled kid at Easter only to be abandoned by her original family once they realized how much work goes into caring for a bunny. Sadly, this is the same story for most of the bunnies that find there way to Red Door.

Knowing this information regarding her background breaks my heart, but Doodles is the last one to hold a grudge. She is the most active, loving, thankful, healthy, and entertaining creature I've ever known. Her only "imperfection" is that she has a permanently dislocated toe - the only visible marking of her former life. It tears me apart to think about what may have caused her little toe injury, but it doesn't affect her one bit. She fearlessly jumps super high and hops through the house at lightening speed. She attacks me with bunny kisses and knows exactly how to manipulate me into giving her treats. She lets me pet her tiny nose and giant ears for as long as I would like, and she always returns the love with kisses.

Owning a pet is hard work, but the rewards far outweigh the cost and effort. I think the biggest change she has made in my life is allowing me to be a more present individual. I'm completely in the moment when I'm observing or petting her. For crying out loud, I have written so many blog posts about how much I struggle with being present, so why didn't anyone ever tell me that owning a pet could help me learn to clear my head and be fully in the moment?!

Doodles also reminds me to be more thankful on a regular basis. She gets a salad twice a day and a treat before bed and every single time she acts as if it's Christmas freakin' morning. It's adorable. Her reaction causes me to be more enthusiastic and thankful any time I eat too. Not that I'm not already enthusiastic about meal time anyway. But she makes me realize how blessed I am to be alive and have the means to obtain the fuel that keeps me living.

No matter where on this earth life and circumstance take me, I am fully committed to loving and caring for this bun and giving her the best damn life she deserves.

Doodles... also known as "Doody, Doody Bun, Doodle Baby, Doodster, Baby, Bunster

A Missed Connection, A Shared Connection

I had an odd experience on the train this morning during my commute to work. While I was waiting on the platform for the train, I observed a mother and her child sitting on a bench also waiting for the train. Her little guy was probably about seven or eight years old, and he was quietly working on some schoolwork. His young mother sat staring off into the distance, seemingly not present in the moment. Her expression was blank, but in my heart I felt as though she may be hurting in some way. As the train approached, I felt compelled to get on the same car as they did, even though it wasn't the closest car from where I was standing. The train was pretty full, so I ended up standing next to the boy with his mother on the other side. As the train took off, the boy wasn't holding on because he was busy fumbling with his notebook and back pack. The train took a predictable sharp turn, and when I saw that the boy was going to lose his balance, I instinctively held my arm out to keep him from toppling over until he could get a grip. His mother seemed oblivious to anything that was going on, but this made me more sad for her than angry.

As people were getting on and off the train, a double seat opened up within a few stops, enabling the boy and his mom to sit in front of where I was standing. The boy wasted no time whipping out his school work again, and it looked like he was working on spelling words, as I observed a list he was making down the page. And seconds later, my instincts about his mother proved to be spot on, as I noticed tears in her eyes. She was quick to wipe them away and was doing her best to conceal her feelings, but it was too late. Seeing her so upset instantly broke my own heart, and tears welled up in my eyes simply from speculating about what could be making her so sad.

I can't explain why I had such an emotional reaction to this perfect stranger. I obviously had no idea why she was upset, but I am human, so I know what suffering looks and feels like, and it always breaks my heart. I think it bothers me so much because I don't know if certain gentle souls are strong enough to handle the crap that life has a tendency to throw at them. And in this case, she has a helpless child who depends on her to be strong.

I was so affected by the woman and her son that I inadvertently stayed on that train, as opposed to connecting to a different train line that takes me closer to my office. I wanted to ask this woman if she was going to be OK; I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that everything was going to be OK, even though I can't possibly know if that's true. I really hope that woman is much stronger than I perceived her to be - for the sake of herself and her child. I hope that she has people in her life who love and care about her and can comfort her with whatever she may be going through.

In addition to mentoring, I've also been volunteering with kids at a shelter for battered women, so I'm wondering if being exposed to so many kids from broken homes contributed to my reaction on the train this morning? It absolutely kills me to know that so many women and children are in pain. And the fact that I'm only seeing a tiny fraction of people in this world that are struggling breaks my heart even more. My parents aren't perfect, but I had a near-perfect childhood, and to think that there are children out there witnessing and also shouldering the burden of their parents' pain makes me wish I had the means to somehow save them all from heartache. Why does life have to be so effing hard for good people?

OK, I know this hasn't been a very uplifting post thus far, so what you may find humorous is that the mother on the train instantly seemed to set aside her problems when she saw my crazy ass wiping away tears. She must have been so confused, but she just stared at me with the same concerned and compassionate look that I had probably been giving her just moments earlier. I wasn't about to make her uncomfortable and tell her that it was her tears that were breaking my heart and causing my eyes to spring a leak, so I desperately worked to pull myself together.

I just can't get over how the heartache of a stranger affected me in such a way that my instincts were fully in tune to her emotions, and I wonder if she sensed it too. As wrapped up and involved as we are with our own highs and lows in life, today's morning commute served as a true testament and reminder of the powerful connection humans share.

My subway stop was before theirs, so I offered the mother a smile as I was exiting the train, even though I felt compelled to offer so much more. I at least hope that I see that mother and her son in my neighborhood again, on what seems to be a better day for her.

Great Unexpectations

Over the past few years, I have developed the belief that the universe has its way of shuffling us in the right direction in life. While it's easy to understand how good experiences move us forward, I also firmly believe that every problem and failure is a blessing in disguise (most often revealing itself in hindsight).

If it hadn't been for my motivation to get into the AUSL teaching program last year, I can't guarantee that I would have become a mentor with Mercy Home's Friends First program. Becoming a mentor had been in the back of my mind for years, but had I not been convinced that I needed experience working with children to gain acceptance into the teaching program, I may have been discouraged by all of the hoop jumping required to become a mentor. But because my eyes were focused on the "prize," I dutifully filled out enough paperwork to make trees cringe, took the El out to a part of the city that's more suburb than urb for fingerprinting, and used a half personal day to get a physical and TB test, in addition to attending all of the interviews and training sessions.

What I didn't realize then, and am so eternally grateful for now, was that the actual "prize" wasn't becoming a teacher at all - it was becoming a mentor. Even before I found out that I had not been accepted into the teaching program, I knew that mentoring was going to make a special impact on my life.

Today is my one year anniversary as a mentor with Friends First. I can hardly believe it has been 365 days since I met my marvelous mentee. Although I'm the mentor, we've both grown leaps and bounds just from spending time together. I credit mentoring for helping me become a better communicator, leader and friend. Being a mentor also serves as a reminder of the value I place on commitment and dedication in my life.

Mentoring has taught me a lot, but I'm not sure I would have learned as much as I have if my mentee wasn't such an outstanding individual. Her positive attitude, resiliency and eagerness to take in all the good the world has to offer is inspiring to me. She is sweet, smart, funny, outgoing, respectful, appreciative, helpful, determined and responsible. Although we've been together for a year, it took much less than a year for us to grow quite close. We've developed inside jokes (mostly about my horrible singing), learned each other's quirks, and are even able to read how each other feels just by a facial expression, which includes a "dance face."

Even when we aren't together, I'll think of something that happened during one of our outings and giggle. We're both clumsy, so that fact itself resulted in plenty of comic relief throughout our year. For instance, during our first outing after ringing in 2011, she was reenacting counting down to the new year (5! 4!...etc.) while we were crossing the street, until she tripped over the curb and completely wiped out on "1!" We consequently burst into giggles, and I'd catch myself giggling about it for weeks following. And another time, as she told me about a good grade she received in math, I gasped in excitement and then wiped out on some ice. "I guess I'm REALLY excited about your grades," I'd said. We didn't stop laughing until we got to the bus stop.

In addition to humor, we are both proud to be nerds. We love vocabulary words, and she'll never hesitate to stop me when I use a word she doesn't know to ask for its meaning. She then repeats the word a few times and makes it a goal to use it at school the next week. We also love to visit museums and learn about other cultures. We frequently discuss strong female characters in history, including Jane Addams, whose own museum we subsequently visited after seeing a display about her at the Chicago History Museum. Our love of learning, in fact, is going to be the theme for the Friends First newsletter that she and I will be on the cover of next quarter!

And speaking of learning, she has brought home all A's and B's since I became her mentor. She confessed that she hadn't had such good grades since 3rd grade. I intentionally put an emphasis on the importance of school and getting involved, and so we take time to celebrate her accomplishments in school and sports. In fact, during a meeting with my Match Support Rep, he relayed to me that she said I'm the first person she thinks of when she does something well in school, because she knows I'll be so proud of her. And being genuinely proud of her is what I most certainly am.

Additionally, to acknowledge that our year together has exceeded my expectations would be an understatement. Actually, it would be a lie. As I reflect on our year, I'm realizing that during the course of our time together, my expectations were virtually flipped into unexpected results. Here are some of my expectations going into the program compared with what actually happened:

• I expected to be matched with a pre-teen who was more "pre" than "teen."
• I didn't expect that she would morph from "pre" to "teen" right before my eyes.

• I expected that our activities would always be creative, imaginative and entertaining.
• I didn't expect that our trips on the El or random strolls through various neighborhoods would spur conversations that contributed to the most significant moments in our friendship.

• I expected to be her biggest cheerleader.
• I didn't expect that she would become mine. When we were rock climbing, for example, I cheered her on as she barely struggled to scale to the top. I had a more difficult time scaling up that wall, but hearing her cheer me on made me realize that there was no way I could quit, ultimately letting her see me fail, so I fought to conquer the wall as well. It was exhilarating for us to be proud of each other.

• I expected to take her out of her comfort zone and expose her to new things as often as possible.
• I didn't expect her to get (okay, drag) me out of mine. Hello!? Ice skating!

• I expected to develop a strong bond with her and be her biggest confidant.
• I never expected to sometimes feel as though I need her more than she needs me.

• Finally, I expected to commit myself to the mentoring program for one year.
• I didn't expect to be so eager to commit myself to a second year.

Becoming a mentor with Friends First has been one of the best experiences of my life. While few and far between, there have been challenges (heading out in bad weather and feeling under the weather, for example) but there has not been one single outing when I wasn't happy to have spent time with her, regardless of the activity. The completion of 365 days just doesn't seem like the natural ending point for us, and so I can't wait to see what adventures lie before us in our 2nd year!

Mentor & mentee mural painting for Artists of the Wall project on the lakefront in the Rogers Park neighborhood. We painted the yellow section, and ours are the red & green hand prints near the bottom left.