Butterfly wings

I had an unexpected visitor in my studio a few days ago.

I was working away in a (very) quiet house, when suddenly I heard a sound like paper rustling. At first I thought it was just paper being moved by an air current from the heating system. But that didn't seem right - it was too random for that. Plus the furnace wasn't on.

Thought #2 - maybe it was outside. Okay, but then it came again and it definitely WASN'T outside.

Thought #3 - Great. I've got mice.

I finally screwed up the courage to go over and investigate and couldn't believe it when I saw a butterfly trying its hardest to get out the window of my French doors! The papery sound happened when the blinds would push back against a paper-wrapped mat board that was leaning against the door. The butterfly would fall to the floor when its wings gave out, then climb up the paper wall and try again.

A butterfly?

It's January!

I have no way to keep a butterfly in my home anymore (gave away the butterfly house) and I was afraid it would really damage itself inside so I trapped it in a glass and took it outside. Keep in mind, its Oregon. Houseflies are still buzzing around, hummingbirds winter over here and the sun was shining. It seemed like a better alternative that having it struggling in my windows until it died from exhaustion.

Outside, I sat the butterfly on the deck rail in the sunshine and instantly it snapped its wings flat and held them there. Odd, I thought. Maybe it's really a moth. I really didn't think so but one of the first things children learn in telling the difference between moths and butterflies is that moths fold their wings down and flat and butterflies fold them up and together. It lets them hide from predators because the underside of their wings is usually much less colorful.

Not this butterfly. It's wings stayed flat open. It might fly a few yards, and then it would land again (sometimes even on me) and snap those wings wide open.

And then it occurred to me. It needed the warmth of the sun and the fresh air to rebuild its energy and stamina. It was using its wings like little solar panels. And because it was doing that, I could see the beautiful colors in its wings that might otherwise be hidden. Against my dull lawn and the leafless trees, that butterfly was a spot of color and joy and the promise of spring.



Can I tell you the lesson I learned from this butterfly?

Very often, as Christians, it is far too easy to keep our wings folded - to try to blend in to our surroundings and keep our beliefs to ourselves. Particularly when we are in a difficult situation or feel like we're just struggling to survive, we "close up" so that we won't draw attention to ourselves.

But we have something beautiful to offer. Even when we feel a little ragged around the edges or feel completely out of place, when we open ourselves to the world around us that is when we are best equipped to reflect the beauty of Christ in our lives. And a life that is shining with God's design can be a spot of color and warmth to those that are surrounded by a drab and hopeless existence.

My theory is that this butterfly came into my studio as a chrysalis on some chairs I was given. In the warmth of my home, it hatched ahead of nature's schedule. But I also think this butterfly was a God-sent reminder that He made me to reflect his nature in the place he has sent me to fly. And as I draw on His strength, I will shine, too, with the reflections of His love, His mercy and His warmth to the world around me.

It's time to open my wings.