Then a few days ago, while I was writing outside (oh glory—it is the season to write outside!), I saw this butterfly hiding under a red Gerber daisy a few yards away. I watched, amazed that yet another butterfly had flown into my life. What was this one telling me? I emptied my mind of everything but watching, so I could catch any flash of insight.
In Texas, when all the butterfly imagery began, I’d missed an opportunity to take an important picture. I didn’t want to miss this opportunity. So out came my camera, but I was too far away to capture detail. Inch by inch, I crept closer. Tried not to startle the butterfly away.
It didn’t move. Then I saw why.
My butterfly was a budding flower—a red Gerber daisy about to bloom. I laughed at myself, even as the bells rang. I loved how a butterfly became a flower. Usually a butterfly is the pinnacle of transformation—moth, chrysalis, butterfly. But even a butterfly had places to go, something to become.
Often we see what our lives have primed us to see, what we are expecting to see. But if we keep watch, life offers some new wonder instead, and how splendidly our minds blast open. I went back to my manuscript, wondering what new wonder I I might see there.
How glorious to think that we can keep becoming. Maybe even angels have places to go.
LORE OF THE BELL
The bells ring when the expected
into the unexpected
7:30 BELLS Posts run every Tuesday.
7:30 BELLS Guest Posts run on the second Tuesday of every month. Join me on June 10 for a guest post with author Joan Holub.