I wondered down the street, aimlessly following the glory of the beauty. Silently, waiting for just a slight notice. Would it see me? Where did it come from? Did it have a story to tell? It is so funny how God can place these little miraculous things in our journey to open our eyes. Giving us the ability to lay our eyes upon the bright beaming sun. And, there in that freedom of the fall day, I found my fascination in the flutter of a butterfly. As I began to follow, I suddenly no longer cared where I would end up, because I knew that it would lead me to a place of wonderful beauty. And I believe on that day, God knew too. After all, what does He not know and have a greater purpose for.
Generically, you would think a butterfly was just an act of nature and it is. But, on this day I would learn that it is so much more than that. Only, if I would take the time to look. And, this time I did. I continued to follow the butterfly, watching the essence of the path it travelled. I watched calmly as it turned north and south, rested on trees, and kissed passerby’s on the street. Often just, leaving with a sense of peace and security. Also noticing with a sense of flabbergast, how no matter what stepped in the path of the butterfly, that it would continue to float on joyously around never seeming to care what was put on the path. Mostly, just a set of learning curves that it has to bend around. And, silently I murmured how I would love to be that of the butterfly.
It was in the moment of wonder and amazement that I would slowly realized. Wasn’t I already the butterfly? Nothing could stop the growth inside of me. Something great had been placed inside of me, that often times I was in awe or didn’t really know how to respond. I just knew that I had to keep on traveling. Had to keep on walking. And, had to keep on growing because today I may just be a caterpillar taking everything in. All that I could possibly process, eating up all the amazement put in front of me. But, tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow I could be a butterfly, that once I began to flap my wings and get the blood to transverse though me that I would begin to fly. Maybe, even soar. And, to me that was the masterpiece of grace that God had played in front of me. He just had to paint my picture a little different than others. Maybe using paint by numbers or connect the dot, instead of impressionism and veduta. He has to slowly paint me, guiding the direction of the brush so that I could be responsive to the technique that He was using. And, it is throughly amazing that I serve a God who is so loving of me, that He is willing to take His time on me just to make sure that each stroke is right. That each color is correct. And, that the work will one day be perfected in me. But, He isn’t done yet but I know that the progress is there and I am going through this radical metamorphis that He intended just for me.
Until next time, have a good ole glass of sweet tea with a slice of faith and be less stressed more blessed