Healing with Butterfly Beauty

An uncluttered mind is quick to see beauty. Thus, my youngest sees beauty everywhere. And he points it out, saying, “Mom. Look at that beautiful ________.”  It’s usually when I’m totally preoccupied by something, anything, other than seeing life for the gift that it is. Two cases in point. We were at the pediatrician’s office a few weeks back and he tapped my arm. “Mom. Look at that beautiful tree. Can I take a picture?” I gave him my phone. Here’s his tree. image What you can’t see in this photo is that the tree was blowing ever so gently in the wind, each of its leaves shimmering a different shade of emerald – a thousand ephemeral jewels twinkling for whomever would stop to appreciate them. And I would have missed them all if it weren’t for the open eyes of my young child.

Then, on Saturday, a similar event. I’m bounding up and down the two flights of steps at the front of our house, unloading a carful of groceries, ignoring my son as he stares intently into a shady section of our overgrown euonymus tree. On one of my passes down the steps back to the car he whispers, “Mom. Come here. Look at this beautiful butterfly.” image This time, I spend so long looking that it’s a small miracle I even get this photo, for I am caught up in watching the silent opening and closing of her wings. My son and I scarcely breathe, seeing her shift position on the tiny flowers – her legs dancing on the stems and leaves, and we notice the miniscule, almost imperceptible feathers on her wings which become visible only when you are this close. Oh, to be still, and see. It is Love, given.

All too soon she flutters up, over the treetop, and away. She is the day’s unexpected gift of presence.

I had wanted to write about her yesterday. But was I caught up in the news…

When the world hurts my heart, like it did yesterday, taking time to focus on beauty is healing.

My son and I took one of our dogs for a walk this morning. On the way, we saw a stunning yellow and black butterfly ahead of us on the path – like it was beckoning us – to follow it.


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