Wednesday, July 14, 2010


On Easter Sunday, after returning from church, I asked God to give me a sign that day.  Please God, tell me that you are there, so I know that I will see my Jamie Lynn again.  Please tell me that my faith in You makes sense.

He answered with a butterfly quietly landing in a field of wildflowers next to our home.  

Since Easter, I have had many visits from butterflies.  Daily and more than once a day.
Butterflies single, gliding on the wind.  Pairs fluttering together.  One lands on a pot nearby.  Another steps into some avacado dip. "Why, yes, help yourself Mr. Butterfly."

They come in all, yellow-orange, dark yellow, light yellow, yellow with spots, orange with spots.  Black with orange stripes.  Black with yellow stripes. 

Butterflies in the early morning as I sip my coffee.  I close my eyes to bask in the afternoon sun.  When I open them, two zig-zag in the near distance.   A butterfly lands on my shoulder as I contemplate a sunset. 

Butterflies flitter-flutter around the boys as they frolic in the yard.  They are oblivious to the perfection of the scene.

Butterflies when I think of her. When I am not thinking of remind me.  
Daddy taps my shoulder.  He points.  I smile.  Of course.  Another butterfly.  We smile at each other. 

It is our little secret, Butterfly.

"Enter each day with the expectation that the happenings of the day may contain a clandestine message addressed to you personally. Expect omens, epiphanies, casual blessings, and teachers who unknowingly speak to your condition."
 --Sam Keen

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