JUST A LITTLE LIGHT
“I’m Gonna Get a Rabbit…”
By Dawn Phelps
Samuel Timothy Elliott, my oldest grandson, was born in 1997 about nine years before my first husband Ralph Thorn died. Ralph doted on Sam, and Sam loved to ride our lawn mower with Ralph, always with the blade turned off.
During Sam’s early years, we lived in the country, and there were usually several rabbits leisurely sitting around in our yard in the grass, appearing to feel safe and secure at the place that we lovingly had named Thornberry Acres.
When Sam was about three or four years old, he and his Grandpa Ralph would talk about goin’ hunting to “get a rabbit” with Sam’s BB gun. I would hear from talking about getting “hasenpfeffer,” which means “supper.”
And more than likely, even if Sam would have hit a rabbit with a BB gun, it would not have killed one. Perhaps it was, like the old saying goes, more about the “thrill of the hunt” with Grandpa.
But there was a problem—when Sam stepped out the door armed with his BB gun, to Sam’s disappointment, the rabbits would scurry.
But Sam’s dream of getting “hasenpfeffer” continued. And from time to time, I’d see Sam head out the back door with his BB gun and a look of determination!
When he was seven years old, I found a note that Sam had written in one of my spiral steno-pads. It made me chuckle, and I saved it. I wrote Sam’s age on the back of the note. Sam would have been seven years old at the time—2004.
Sam had written the note phonetically, spelling the words how they sounded. It said:
“Tomorrow I take actshen. I plan to get 2 maby even 3.”
Some years later, I again found the same note. It really brought back some memories—of Thornberry Acres, my husband Ralph, and our wonderful years living in the country.
Sam and his Grandpa Ralph never shot a rabbit with Sam’s BB gun. But a few years later, Sam and a cousin did shoot a rabbit with a pellet gun. And Sam cried and told us, “I didn’t mean to kill it.”
That little boy is now almost 28 years old and is over six feet tall. He still has his black hair, and eyes are so dark-brown that you cannot see his pupils. He is still tender-hearted.
Sam grew up in Wales and now lives in Springfield, Missouri. He works hard. He is a brilliant, talented, handsome, goal-oriented man. He knows how to roast coffee and has sold articles to international coffee magazines.
Many times, throughout the last couple of decades, I have thought of Sam’s note. And if you think about it, maybe that’s when Sam began setting goals for his life.
His note includes steps for goal setting. When: “tomorrow.” Action verbs: “take action.” What he was planning: to get “rabbits.” How many: “2 maby even 3.”
Sam had succinctly written his goal on paper with a few words. His goal was clear and to the point!
I think I may have learned a little from Sam’s note myself. Even at my age, I still make lists of projects I want to accomplish. And like Sam, I put my goals on paper—long-term goals, short-term, and frequently daily goals.
At my age, I feel like I am racing against the clock. Obstacles have hindered my progress. But I still doggedly keep on trying, like Sam heading out the back door with a determined look and a BB gun in his hand.
Most mornings, when I sit down with a hot cup of coffee, I scribble down what I want to accomplish that day. Sometimes I only write a few words.
Do I accomplish all my goals? No, because things pop up that take up my time, many which are beyond my control, but are still important. And life must be lived, so I live life and keep on trying.
Many mornings I say to Tom, “Well, today I’m going to get two rabbits, maybe even three.” And sometimes I must hunt down more “rabbits” than I had planned on!
So why not write your goals? If you do, you might even get a rabbit, or “2 maby even 3.”
