There are many things on my mind that I could choose to
write about this week. In the last month and a half our church split, I leaned
some more things about my health, some of which are potentially quite serious,
and we had a fire in the garage which filled the house with smoke and displaced me (yet again) from my home.
My husband took off for a mission trip overseas and I hung out alone in a
campground for five days. I’m now back to hanging out in my campervan in the driveway,
while I air out the house and pray it will be habitable quickly. There are so
many thoughts and feelings swirling about that it’s hard to know how to corral
them into a coherent blog post. Instead of corralling them, I think I’ll ignore
most of them and write about yellow butterflies.
The story of the yellow butterflies began in August two
years ago. A basement flood and resulting mold growth had left me unable to be
inside the house for any significant length of time. I was camped out on the
back deck on my birthday, feeling somewhat sorry for myself, when a yellow
butterfly landed on the rail beside me. It was just a butterfly, sitting on a
deck rail, but because butterflies traditionally represent hope and new
beginnings, its presence comforted me. I don’t generally keep a journal or
prayer diary, but I do occasionally jot things down, and on that day I wrote
the following: “While I
was on the deck I first saw a butterfly that stayed a long
time (sign of freedom
and change?). Then I saw a praying mantis walking very slowly. Maybe change will come
through prayer, but take a while?”
A few months later, my sister’s life was hit with some
significant and painful challenges. As we talked about them, she mentioned that God had spoken a
message of hope and peace to her through the appearance of a yellow butterfly. I
was fascinated that we had both had the same experience.
From that time on, we both began to notice yellow
butterflies. They helped sustain my sister during her crisis. Once, we were
talking on the phone (we live 700 miles apart) and she saw one in her
yard. As soon as she mentioned it, one appeared in my yard, too. I’ve been to
her house once since the first butterfly appearance, for just a few hours, but
as we were sitting outside talking, a yellow butterfly flew past.
My friend Linda posts lovely pictures on Facebook and adds
scripture verses to them. In July, she posted a picture of a yellow butterfly
sitting among a patch of black-eyed susans and purple coneflowers. She used
Ephesians 3:20, which is one of my favorite verses (“Now glory be to God, who
by his mighty power at work in us is able to do far more than we would ever
dare to ask or even dream of – infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires,
thoughts, or hopes.”) I told Linda how
much I loved the picture and I told my husband and father-in-law, who was
visiting, a little about it and about why it was special to me.
The day after my friend posted the picture, my husband,
father-in-law and I went out for a walk. (They walk and I roll in my
wheelchair, but I’m not sure what to call that.) We rounded a corner and I was
treated to a beautiful sight. A yellow butterfly, identical to the one in the
picture, was sitting on identical flowers. We didn’t manage to snap a picture,
but my husband and father-in-law both agreed that it was a perfect re-creation
of the photo. It seemed that God was reinforcing the message.
I’m writing about yellow butterflies this week, because they
keep appearing. Every day in the campground I was greeted by them and sometimes
they flew very close to me. I’ve had more yellow butterfly visits since I’ve
been home. I realize that they’re a part of nature and that it isn’t as if I’m
seeing orange elephants. Whether I’ve seen more yellow butterflies than I
should normally expect to see, I don’t really know, but I know they bring me
peace.
I’m sure we’ve all heard illustrations of how caterpillars enter into a
vulnerable, dark place before they emerge with wings and freedom. I don’t have
anything especially insightful to add. I guess I just want to remind myself,
and anyone who happens to read this, that things do change, that sometimes
increased challenges are a preparation for greater victory, and that no matter how long
we’ve crawled along the ground, a day may come when we can fly.