When I think of butterflies, I think of my childhood friend who passed too soon her senior year of high school. A beautiful and talented girl who loved Jesus. She woke up for school one February day, flipped her Scripture calendar to Philippians 1:20 "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death."
She pulled out of her driveway and was involved in a serious car accident. She met Jesus a few days later. Her family, friends, and community members wore butterflies in remembrance. Her mother may still wear the butterfly pin I remember from her funeral. Like the verse prepared, in her life and in her death, Christ was exalted. When I see butterflies, I think of her. She was a beautiful dancer, a talented musician, and a gifted student.
The butterfly symbol resembles so much. Learning about these creatures more in depth today I can see why. I'm probably the only mother in the IMAX theater who was fighting back tears. Remembering this friend, recounting hope lost, hope gained, and beauty all around us.
When these little five year old girls, all donned with 3D glasses, saw the butterflies flying through the field, flying towards them, around them, between them, they stood up. They moved forward. They tried to reach, grasp, filled with delight and laughter and "if I could just catch one" feelings.
Like these little girls, the feeling of these beautiful creatures flying all around them was too much to contain their excitement. They wanted to hold onto one. Kind of like most people I meet want to hold on to hope.
It's interesting to me Monarchs have one of the longest migrations on Earth. Our path we're given can sometimes seem terribly long and daunting.
She rides the wind sometimes a mile high. Lord, sometimes that's all I can do, too. Rest in You. Ride the wind, in what seems like a mile from where others are and so far removed from my final destination.
Her feet are like insect GPS which fine tune her flight path, knowing exactly where to go. Lord, do I listen to you? Are we having dialogue? You are my GPS.
She tastes with her feet, knowing how much nectar she needs. Lord, am I tasting your goodness? Do I come to you to fill me up with You?
There are times when I have looked at God, waiting for a proverbial shoe to drop. That maybe He is good, but I would do something do fall out of his favor. Like when I was a teacher, and in the second grade classroom the children did a butterfly project. Each student received a cocoon, and they carefully placed them in the netting and waited for what seemed like forever.
After weeks of waiting, only one butterfly made it out alive. It was butterfly release day, and the whole class went outside to an open field. The teacher let the creature loose, he flew up, up, up, and then a bird swooped down and ate it. The assistant shrieked, the children cried, and the counselor was called in to do some "grief therapy". I was left with this analogy which described my faith, and the question, "Where does my hope lie?"
These butterflies fight a hard fight from the beginning and only a few in a million get past the egg stage. During migration, millions are killed. The dangers are so many. So many ways to lose hope around every corner.
But their secret to survival? Migration. Movement. When they feel the cold air they start to move. Change locations. They migrate to the perfect place that is far enough south to be warm, but cool enough in the evergreen forest with just enough moisture to survive. They live off their fat reserves until spring.
Like these little girls, the feeling of these beautiful creatures flying all around them was too much to contain their excitement. They wanted to hold onto one. Kind of like most people I meet want to hold on to hope.
It's interesting to me Monarchs have one of the longest migrations on Earth. Our path we're given can sometimes seem terribly long and daunting.
She rides the wind sometimes a mile high. Lord, sometimes that's all I can do, too. Rest in You. Ride the wind, in what seems like a mile from where others are and so far removed from my final destination.
Her feet are like insect GPS which fine tune her flight path, knowing exactly where to go. Lord, do I listen to you? Are we having dialogue? You are my GPS.
She tastes with her feet, knowing how much nectar she needs. Lord, am I tasting your goodness? Do I come to you to fill me up with You?
There are times when I have looked at God, waiting for a proverbial shoe to drop. That maybe He is good, but I would do something do fall out of his favor. Like when I was a teacher, and in the second grade classroom the children did a butterfly project. Each student received a cocoon, and they carefully placed them in the netting and waited for what seemed like forever.
After weeks of waiting, only one butterfly made it out alive. It was butterfly release day, and the whole class went outside to an open field. The teacher let the creature loose, he flew up, up, up, and then a bird swooped down and ate it. The assistant shrieked, the children cried, and the counselor was called in to do some "grief therapy". I was left with this analogy which described my faith, and the question, "Where does my hope lie?"
These butterflies fight a hard fight from the beginning and only a few in a million get past the egg stage. During migration, millions are killed. The dangers are so many. So many ways to lose hope around every corner.
But their secret to survival? Migration. Movement. When they feel the cold air they start to move. Change locations. They migrate to the perfect place that is far enough south to be warm, but cool enough in the evergreen forest with just enough moisture to survive. They live off their fat reserves until spring.
"Those who survive the winter drink in the spring warmth." Lord, prepare me for what lies ahead, fill me with Your eternal hope and love, and may I gracefully embrace your Truth.
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