You haven’t truly experienced joy until you’ve watched a 94-year-old woman with a titanium hip strike a pose like she’s on the cover of Vogue, all because our maintenance man at the nursing home put on a fuzzy bunny costume complete with a violet satin vest with matching bow tie and a pair of floppy ears and feet!
Let me explain. On Easter Sunday, I had a plan—a big, fluffy, pastel-colored plan. I talked our maintenance man (a 6’2”, burly fellow who normally spends his days unclogging toilets and fixing flickering lights) into dressing up as the Easter Bunny. Not just any bunny, mind you. This was the Cadillac of Easter Bunnies. He was big. He was jolly. He had the kind of fluff that made you want to hug him and never let go.
I brought in a professional photographer to capture the moment. I expected a few shy smiles. What I got were full-blown glamour shots. Residents with arthritis that would make a yoga instructor weep were suddenly twisting and twirling, striking cheeky poses and demanding a retake because “my smile looked crooked in that one.”
I saw more hip movement in that room than I have at a high school dance. To share the joy, I posted an open invitation on Facebook for the public to join us. Just one elderly woman came.
One. But oh, what a story she brought with her. She entered the room like she was carrying butterflies in her purse—nervous but hopeful and dressed to the nines! After a bit of pie, some warm coffee, and a bunny hug or two, she relaxed. She shared that earlier that morning, she’d sat in church alone, as she has for the last nine Easters since her husband passed. She has children, but they’re busy with families of their own, doing what families do—gathering, eating ham, and arguing over who forgot to bring the deviled eggs, I’m guessing. She went home after the service, ready to spend the holiday with a remote and her thoughts.
But something stirred in her—a little voice, a flicker of bravery, or perhaps the memory of a really good slice of apple pie-just like the pie we serve at the nursing home. Fifteen minutes later, she walked through our doors. She left hours later with a full heart, a bunny photo she plans to frame when she gets it and the kind of glow usually reserved for people who’ve just fallen in love or discovered bingo night includes wine.
Before she left, she hugged me and said, “Thank you for letting me be part of something. I didn’t know I needed this until I was in the middle of it.”
And that, my friends, is the moral of this story – Never underestimate the power of a maintenance man in a bunny suit. Or hot coffee. Or pie. Or a building full of people who might seem old on the outside but still light up like kids at the mere sight of a bunny with big feet and a gentle heart. Loneliness doesn’t stand a chance when connection hops in.
