Rabbit

Of all the characters in Milne's Hundred Acre Wood, my family pegged me as Rabbit, and I don't deny the comparison. My rambunctious sister Holly was Tigger, melancholy Cassandra could be Owl, Piglet and Eeyore, and Rebecca, the baby of the family, was Roo. But I was definitely Rabbit.

Lists. Schedules. Check marks. Stopwatches. Being the BOSS. I love them all, and being the oldest brought out the natural leader (and slavedriver) in me.

Now that I'm an adult, this is both a good and bad thing. I'm a great administrator and I get things done. I'm innovative and responsible. I'm also at times overreaching with my (almost) adult sisters and I have the problem of automatically assuming that I need to step into every power vacuum. I'll admit that I think that I have the answer to every question and the solution to every problem.

I'm trying to put my hands behind my back a bit more; in fact, my only New Year's Resolution was to not offer advice (if I could help it!) unless it was about spiritual matters or was solicited. I'm not sure how to gauge progress on that, except that I try to stay mindful of it.

I wonder, if every time I tried to initiate change in another's life -- be it ever so small as a makeup suggestion or grand as an educational plan -- if instead, I shared with them about Jesus or what I had been reading in the Bible, how much more uplifted they would be. There's a time and place for guidance in the practical and superficial matters in life, but I am deeply convicted that I have been wasting my time telling people what to do about trivial things. I could instead be encouraging their spirits and pointing them to living water instead of another checklist, another way to fall short.