QOD: Where do you keep your bunny ears?

The kid was born without ears. Oh, he could hear all right; the inner ear was intact and functioned normally. Some genetic glitch, or perhaps some quirk of development had denied him outer ears. Mom and Dad were sick about it. Even as a baby, the kid collected too many stares, too many gasps. What would it be like when he understood? What about when he started school? Let’s face it, kids could be nasty.

The doctors said work was being done on getting tissue to grow in the lab; eventually they might be able to grow him some ears. When, though? It was possible to transplant ears, although the chance of success was much higher if there was a live donor. That and finding someone who matched his rare blood type.

It was a bad time for the family. They called parents, siblings, cousins…pray with us. Less than a week later, those prayers were answered. A live donor, a perfect match, was willing to donate two healthy ears as long as anonymity was guaranteed. The family accepted, and the kid got his ears. A bit too big for him, but he’d grow into them all right.

It was tough, though, not being able to thank the donor. Hard even to imagine what kind of person would be willing to give up ears. The family got together and eventually decided the only thing they could do to thank the donor was to pass the good will along in whatever way they could. Maybe someday the ripple effect would result in a good turn for their anonymous benefactor.

It would be difficult to quantify the good that family did over the next decades, as that kid grew up, enjoying a normal life because of someone’s extraordinary gift. They just kept passing the good along, and no one ever noticed that Aunt Bunny always wore her hair down after the kid’s birth.