Butterflies

I was reminded recently of how I love butterflies. I've always appreciated them, but they carry a new meaning on their flitty little wings. When I was a little girl in Kenya, my mom made us butterfly nets out of a hanger and mosquito netting. We would catch them, record it in a little book and hang them on our bulletin board.
In the big picture we loved having Papa Wes live with us. It allowed me to stay home with our kids for another year. It allowed the boys a unique opportunity to spend a lot of time with their great grandfather. It taught my children a respect and appreciation for a generation that brings discomfort and fear to some kids. It opened my eyes to a new passion for the elderly that I didn't know was buried in my heart. On the other hand, it was a growing year for me. A cocoon year, if you will. It was dark and constraining. It was not easy to see the big picture. It was solitude and unfamiliar territory. It was lonely. When I was in that place, I did not understand what was happening.
On November 3, 2008 when Grandpa went to dance with the angels, the cocoon cracked, but I still didn't know what was happening. Guilt set in. Had I really done my best? Had he sensed my frustration? Was it wrong to feel a little relieved at not being responsible anymore? Even though I was relieved, I felt like my identity had slipped away a little bit and I couldn't get a picture of what was next.

I slowly felt myself emerging. My wings dried. I was nervous to try them at first, but gradually I tested them more and more. God had used that cocoon year to expand my boundaries, to mature me in new ways, to squeeze me tight in His hands because he had a time of flight set out in front of me.

Butterflies remind me that I was squeezed so that my life as a comfortable little caterpillar
had greater potential. A story of FAITH and FAITHFULNESS. I have a new love for butterflies.

¹¹ You crown the year with your bounty,
and your carts overflow with abundance. Ps. 65