Butterflies

On a group hike to the Walls of Jericho near the Tennessee/Alabama border, I stopped beneath tall canyon cliffs to soak my feet in the cold water gushing from holes in the rocks. While I basked in the late winter sun, a butterfly landed on my socks, presumably to suck on the salt. I reached out and it climbed onto my fingers. Fortunately I had the camera in the other hand. I can't express the feeling as this delicate wild creature willingly chose me for its temporary perch.

Butterflies seem to personify freedom. "Butterflies are free to fly... fly away!" As a child I used to catch them in improvised nets with the intention of starting a collection. It never happened. Now I regret killing them.

One clear autumn day I sat mesmerized on the garage roof while scores of migrating monarchs floated overhead, their gossamer wings glowing like orange silk backlit by the sun.

Many can relate to the concept of being "in limbo," wrapped up in a symbolic chrysalis, waiting, stuck in a metamorphic holding pattern. I have kicked against the cocoon walls with impatience, even groaned in despair, and sighed with resignation to the 'permanent darkness.'

To you and to myself I say- Take heart. Hold on. Consider the butterfly and its humble beginnings with hope of something better, much much better yet to come. The One who fashioned this fragile yet strong and graceful insect surely has a good plan for those who love Him.