Every preschooler in my class suffered from abuse. They lived either in foster homes or with their birth parents under the supervision of a child welfare agent.

The previous year, the teachers had asked the children what they wanted to do when they grew up. Amid aspiring athletes, fire fighters, movie stars, and teachers, Tommy stated flatly, “I am going to kill somebody.” When his foster parents found all his allowance money under his mattress, the four-year-old said, “I am saving to buy a gun.”

His case history sent chills down my spine. His mother had continued her drug habit during her pregnancy, causing his moods to swing between whimpering lethargy and burly hyperactivity. His father had murdered his mother and all his siblings. The two-year-old escaped by hiding behind a couch.

In class, Tommy instinctively hid when an unexpected change occurred. We might find him crouched in the toy box or wedged behind the moveable shelves.

Tommy’s sagging cheeks and baggy eyes resembled an old man. His favorite book, Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, turned up in the wastebasket with every torn page wearing his characteristic crayon scribbles. Upon his return after a delayed circumcision, he jumped from the bus, ripped open his pants zipper, and displayed the operation. We gasped. He had torn the layers of gauze into shreds that hung loosely from the affected area.

That week, we were planning carefully for a visit from a pet rabbit which had been circulating through the preschool centers. The animal would stay in its cage on the back porch in sight of a teacher. We decided that we would not mention the rabbit in front of Tommy, who would be kept occupied in the play room.

After school, however, when the children lined up for the bus, Tommy was missing. We quickly searched all his favorite hiding places. When we spied him, we were stunned at the sight. A cross legged Tommy was cuddling the contented rabbit in his lap. As his hand stroked its snowy fur, he softly sang a lullaby. He had never sung like that.

My heart aches about the violence in our nation. Have we forgotten that the rabbit has come to stay with us, to seek a place in our laps, and to be hugged to our hearts? Oh, how we need to be drawn out of our self-destructive patterns and restored to purity and gentleness. Then we’ll sing with peace and hope.

Come, Holy Spirit. Come and stay with us! Amen.

Rev. Ruth