The Blessing of Little Things

 It's been a long time since I've thought about the blessings I receive from little things, but today, I was reminded I need to remember them. 

I was walking through the Butterfly Center at Callaway Gardens with my youngest granddaughter. As we were weaving through the beautiful plants, we came upon a pond filled with turtles. Leaning over the rail, we watched as they moved their webbed feet back and forth, gliding slowly through the water. It was such a little thing, but it brought us both joy. 

When we finished watching the turtles, we moved down the pathway and were surrounded by beautiful butterflies. Flying overhead, we saw Yellow Swallowtails, Blue Morphos, Cloudless Sulfurs, and a million other butterflies I can't name. It was beautiful and overwhelming. What brought me the most joy was watching my sweet granddaughter trying to catch a butterfly. 

I'd brought her to this butterfly center for years, and she remembered past visits where I taught her how to get a butterfly on her finger. Very patiently, she waited for a butterfly to land, then walked slowly over and slid her finger in front of it. Without moving, she waited. In just a few seconds, a butterfly was walking up her finger. She smiled a big smile and then moved her hand slowly to show me her catch. Naturally, I snapped a photo. I wanted her to remember this moment, and so did I. 

Throughout the day, we experienced one little joy after another. By the time the day was over, our hearts were full. 

Life is so short and if we don't pay attention to the blessing of little things, they'll pass us by. I hope you'll look for the little blessings that come your way. Take time to savor them. Commit them to memory! Make each one precious. When you look for them, you'll find them. I promise. 




 

Broken

 

A brilliant Yellow Swallowtail landed on my leg today as we sat outside on our back patio. It was such a special moment and I was extremely still for fear of interrupting its landing. At first glance, I thought it was a perfect butterfly but as I looked closer, I noticed one of its wings was broken and that made me extremely sad. 

I wondered how the wing had been compromised. Had the butterfly brushed against something rough that had caught and torn the wing or had a pair of eager little hands tried to catch it and in desperation of keeping its freedom, the butterfly had sacrificed part of its wing as it got away. 

The butterfly stay for several minutes before lifting off and gently soaring on the breeze. As it left, I felt my wounded heart cry out, "You're still broken, too."Though I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was true. 

I'd been broken for almost 9 years, since the diagnosis of my breast cancer. Though I'd had months of deep despair, I'd also experienced moments of sheer joy at still being alive and being able to do the things I wanted to do, but I wasn't ever going to be the same again. That realization wounded me deeply.

Today, without realizing he'd done it, my husband said something very hurtful to me. He'd meant it in teasing but the words pierced my heart and made me feel less than. Those words reminded me of my brokenness and I began to sob. When he realized he'd hurt me, he instantly came to my side asking for forgiveness but the words had already accomplished their goal. It was my choice whether or not I would hold on to them or release them. 

I wanted to instantly release them but something deep inside cried out. I thought, by now, I was completely over the trauma of breast cancer, but apparently I wasn't. I wondered if I'd ever feel normal again or at least feel worthy of love again. 

That butterfly, though it had a broken wing, chose to continue to fly. If it hadn't continued on, it would have died without sustenance. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to choose to continue on, too. 

I've been trying to learn to thrive for several years now, but it's been hard. The dictionary defines the word thrive in this way: "to prosper, to flourish." I wasn't doing that. I was merely existing. I went from one mundane day to the next trying to fill my time with things to occupy my mind like art projects or writing. When I wasn't doing one of those things, I was cleaning. My house was always immaculate. Though those things kept me busy, they didn't fill my heart with joy. I needed joy. 

I realized, along with feeling broken, I was lonely. I had no friends here and all of my family lived at least an hour away. Rarely did I see anyone other than medical staff or my husband. I needed more. 

Social media helped a little. As I perused my account, I enjoyed learning what my "long distance" friends were up to. It felt like I had a connection although it wasn't really true. 

I'm not the type of person to get down in the dumps often but for the past couple of years I think I've struggled with depression. Oh, it's been mild but it's been there and I haven't liked it one bit. 

If I'd been smart, I would have taken my oncologist up on meeting with a cognitive behavioral specialist, but I was too embarrassed to admit my need. I was also afraid of admitting I was struggling with feelings of unworthiness. 

My faith in God has been my saving grace. Whenever I've felt smothered in my feelings, He's always  been there to remind me who I am and whose I am. Without him, I'm sure I would have already given up. Thankfully, His Word speaks to my heart daily. 

I've had to remind myself over and over again that feelings aren't fact. Though I feel broken and less than, I'm still His precious child. And He chose the trial of breast cancer for me. Knowing that gives me peace, not because I was made to suffer through the trauma of having my body maimed, but knowing no matter what, He'd promised never to leave or forsake me. 

The butterfly with the broken wing was a special gift. I think God allowed it to land on my leg for a reason- to remind me life is still possible even with a broken body. 

I still have a lot of internal healing to do and I'm working on myself daily. I've learned to use positive self talk to help remind me I matter, but more than that, as I've struggled, I've looked for Scriptures that get me back on track. 

I doubt if all women who go through breast cancer struggle with body image like I have but many do. It's hard to explain how damaging losing body parts can be to a person's self worth, especially when those body parts are the essence of their femininity. 

One day, I'm hoping to see myself healed and whole. Until then, I'll keep on working through things one day at a time. And one day, perhaps I'll fly.

The New Year has begun

 It's hard to believe we're already on the third day of the new year. 2023 came fast and hard. I'm afraid it's going to be a tough year for many. 

Yesterday, Phil and I decided to visit Callaway Gardens again. We've had an annual membership for some time and always enjoy going to visit the butterfly house there.When we arrived, there weren't many people and we wondered if perhaps the gardens were closed, but they were open. 

We drove through the gardens and were surprised to see the Christmas lights still up. We've never had the opportunity to see them lit, but according to the varied displays we saw as we drove, it must have been spectacular. 

When we pulled into the parking lot of the Day Butterfly Center, we noticed they'd recently graded the parking lot and made it a lot bigger. That was a much needed change that will provide places for many more guests. 

We went inside and just in the foyer was a large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Though Christmas was technically over, we enjoyed looking at it and longing for the next Christmas to come. 

Approaching the doors to the butterfly conservatory, we couldn't help but notice the wall of hatchlings next to us. Row upon row of beautiful cocoons hung there. Some cocoons were large and some were small. Several new butterflies hung from cocoons as the new creatures pumped their wings and prepared for flight. 

We opened the door to the conservatory and were immediately blasted with air. The staff have this purposely orchestrated to keep the butterflies in the center instead of allowing them to escape as people come and go. 

Hundreds of butterflies were in the air. The colors were brilliant as we walked down the path through the lush greenery. I took several photos of plants I'd never seen before. Their blooms were gorgeous and made me wonder what a tropical paradise would be like. 

Within a few minutes, I was able to move my finger in front of a pretty butterfly. As I waited patiently, it climbed on my finger and sat there while another butterfly moved quickly past. I felt the quick brush of wings and thought of the song, "Butterfly kisses." 

I held my special friend for a few minutes admiring its beauty. Then, I looked for a child to pass the creature on to and saw a little oriental boy just ahead of me. Slowly I walked toward him, smiling. He smiled back and as I extended my hand to ask if he wanted to hold the butterfly, he shied away, hiding behind his father's leg. 

The mother came alongside me and I began to speak to her. I wasn't sure they understood English and I could only remember a few phrases in Mandarin, so I spoke slowly hoping someone in the group could understand me. 

The father, little boy, and grandmother leaned in to look at the butterfly as I explained to the mother that they don't bite and I'd love to pass the creature on to one of them to enjoy. 

I held out my hand and the father stepped forward. I said, "Hold out your hand," and as he did, I slipped the butterfly slowly onto his finger. The little boy watched carefully as his father held the butterfly but was still afraid and didn't want to hold it. 

I stepped back and smiled. The father was so excited to hold the butterfly. It warmed my heart to see the joy on his face. 

We wandered through the rest of the center and then headed outside to hike. Although it was January, the day was warm and perfect for hiking. 

When it was time for lunch, we took our time making it to the picnic tables at Robin Beach. I unpacked the sandwiches I'd made and we sat down to eat. 

A large flock of Canada Geese flew overhead in a beautiful V formation before landing on the lake. 

It was a good day and we enjoyed our time outdoors. 

We're hoping this new year will be filled with opportunities to enjoy being out in nature. Both Phil and I love being outside. 

May the new year bring you chances for adventure, too. We could all use a little more of that in our lives. 

We're all broken, a lesson learned from a butterfly

Cecil B. Day Butterfly House

There's a place not far from here where butterflies flourish. If you choose to visit, you will surely not be disappointed. The Cecil B. Day Butterfly house is located on the grounds of Callaway Gardens. The ornate glass building is conducive to providing the perfect amount of sunlight for plants and warmth for the butterflies. At times, it's hard to deal with so much beauty in one place but I go because I love butterflies.

Yesterday was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon. My husband and I decided to take a "mini vaca day," as we like to call them.  They're short jaunts we can accomplish in a day or less. Where should we go? We talked about several locations and agreed Callaway Gardens would be the perfect place to spend the day. We hadn't been there in many years and felt it was time to go back for a visit.

Callaway Gardens is a 2500 acre property nestled in the southwest part of Georgia. Some of the many attractions included in the gardens include a man made beach, zip lining, playgrounds, picnic areas, walking trails, golf course, restaurants, circus tent, a bird of prey exhibit and much more. There are always flowers blooming on the grounds and the management makes sure to include native species found here in Georgia.

Southern Pearly Eye

After driving for about an hour, we entered the gardens. Without even asking, my husband began to drive toward the butterfly house. He knew it was my favorite place and where I'd want to begin our day. I smiled as the warmth of the sun heated our car knowing the butterfly house would be much warmer. We pulled into the parking area outside the massive building constructed of glass and steel. I marveled at the architecture though I'd seen it many times in the past. The hexagonal angles of the glass bounced the sunlight in all directions. It seemed to glow with a heavenly radiance.

We entered the building and walked past the information center and gift shop. There weren't too many people and we were glad. It's always nice to enjoy the butterflies without crowds. Opening the door to the butterfly room, a wave of moist heat slapped me in the face. "Instant sauna," I said to my husband, as I grinned and continued forward. Beautiful butterflies glided through the air. In and around us they flitted. Instantly a large Blue Morpho landed on my hand. I was in heaven! I'd purposely worn my sweetest smelling perfume, Jessica McClintock, to attract these delicate beauties and it had worked! Hubby snapped a quick cell phone picture of me. We stood and watched the brilliant colors and shapes of these delicate creatures as they darted to and fro. I took out my 35mm digital camera and popped on my telephoto lens. As I readied for a shot, I realized my lens had fogged up. The transition from the air conditioning in the main building to the sauna like temperatures in the butterfly house had collided producing an unwanted misty film over my lens. Quickly, I took my lens cloth and wiped the foggy haze away. I began shooting and my husband disappeared further into the plant filled room. He knew I'd take my time capturing each and every butterfly.

More beauty

There were so many varieties of butterflies! I'd read on the website there were over 1000! While in elementary school, I'd taken an interest in learning to identify our native butterflies so I was tickled to find there were still a few I actually remembered. There was a pretty brown, camouflaged butterfly called a Southern Pearly Eye, a delicate white and orange one called a Dainty Sulphur, Yellow Swallowtails, Black Swallowtails, a pretty orange, black and white one called a Postman, several types of fritillaries, and many I'd seen before but couldn't identify. As I continued photographing my favorites, one butterfly in particular caught my eye. It was a medium sized black winged butterfly with red spots. I watched as it landed on top of a brilliant purple flower. It was gorgeous. As the wings of the butterfly unfolded, I couldn't help but notice one of its wings was broken. The jagged edge was torn and rough. I felt sorry for the butterfly, but I was disappointed. I didn't want to photograph this less than perfect specimen. I'd always worked hard to choose butterflies without imperfection for my photos. No one would find beauty in a photograph of a butterfly with an injury. I continued to watch the broken, beautiful butterfly suck nectar from the flower.

Dainty Sulphur

It perched delicately on top of a tiny purple blossom and probed deep for the sweetest sustenance the flower could give. That broken wing kept my attention. I wondered how and when the wing had been damaged. Had the butterfly flown into something causing it to be ripped and torn away? Had the papery thin appendage been grabbed by some small child clasping with an eager hand? Whatever caused the wing to become damaged had apparently not kept the butterfly from continuing on with its life. It still flew. It still fed. It still did what butterflies do. Although the average life span of most butterflies is only a month, this little guy was thriving. His injury was not debilitating. And that's when it hit me...

Feeding upon a flower

We're all broken. In some way, shape, or form, we're all damaged. None of us are perfect. A butterfly quietly slipped in front of me gently kissing the front of my blouse. I looked down and remembered. My chest. The butterfly had touched my most vulnerable place. The place I protected and shielded. Since breast cancer surgery to remove both breasts, I was always conscious of my chest. I didn't like to go out in public because I always felt like people were looking at me. The silicone prostheses I'd slipped into my bra before our trip today made me look like a woman on the outside but sometimes I didn't feel like one on the inside. I was broken. I didn't feel beautiful.

The black butterfly with the broken wing darted away. I watched as he flew from one flower to another. On and on he flew, rising higher and higher until I could no longer see him. How did you learn to fly so high, butterfly? Who taught you to ignore your damaged wing? Did the other butterflies ever notice your brokenness? I stood with my camera dangling around my neck. My husband was coming toward me. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as he approached. He saw them. "What's wrong?," he questioned. My chin dropped to my chest and I turned to walk to a secluded spot in the thickest part of the floral garden. I looked at him and whispered, "I'm broken." He had no idea what I was talking about so I tried my best to explain what I was feeling. When I'd finished, he put his arm around me and we made our way out of the butterfly house. I could feel the tiniest little butterfly kiss of a whisper right beside my ear saying, "We're all broken, but it's okay. Be like the butterfly and choose to live life anyway."

Our drive home was long. We were tired. We'd hiked, picnicked, and enjoyed the entire day at the gardens. The eighty degree weather and the pollen filled air had zapped our energy. Leaning my head back on the seat, I thought about the broken butterfly's wing and the messaged whispered as we'd left the building. We're all broken and it's okay. We truly are. We're all defective in some way.  Some of our injuries are visible and some are not. That little butterfly was my hero. He was valiant and brave. He'd decided not to focus on his injury but on his blessings. He could still fly, even with a broken wing. He was still beautiful, even with the raggedness. He was still alive! And so was I.

What a powerful lesson. Thank you little butterfly. You'll never know how you touched my life one warm, March day or maybe you do? Maybe I was meant to witness your brokenness and maybe you were meant to be my teacher. And without saying a word, you said so much.