The Butterfly

As I mentioned at the end of my last post, back in the days right after my "he cares for you far more than sparrows" incident, I went through a time when God really used birds to remind me of his love for me. I read a book that spoke of claiming something as a "God-sign." Something that would allow God to speak to you in a difficult or challenging time. Or just a time when you weren't really expecting or looking for Him. It really worked for me. It was amazing how God rushed in when I opened the door.

That summer my friend, Brian, and I decided to start a small group on Sunday evenings. Originally we had thought it would be for college-age people. We were reading a book by Laurie Beth Jones called The Path. It is a guide for writing a mission statement for your life. As we organized the class, however, people just a little bit older than college students began approaching us asking if they could be a part of it. Who were we fooling? We were far from college ourselves, so we opened it up to whoever wanted to come.

We had an amazing group of people - from college students to grandparents. Each Sunday night we chose a different outdoor venue to take a little hike and then gather around for our study of the book. This was also the height of my "God-sign" days, and almost every week I had a story for them of how God had come near and spoke to my heart. I strongly encouraged each of them to choose something that would be their own personal God-sign. I know some of them thought I was crazy, but others took up the challenge and sometimes they had stories of how God had spoken to them. From sunsets to rainbows to cardinals, God was pouring out His love to our little group and it was so much fun.

One woman in our group was Mary. Mary was a little older than I was and was beginning the "empty nest" stage of her life. And Mary took me up on the challenge. She chose butterflies as her God-sign and she had a story or two during our times together of how God had spoken to her. One week Mary told me she would not be able to make our next week's gathering as she and her husband were going to be on vacation to Mackinac Island.

Two weeks later on Sunday morning, I ran into Mary at church. "How was your vacation?" I asked. "Oh, Debbie, you won't believe what happened!" She was so excited and I stood and listened as she talked about how God had spoken to her heart of His incredible love for her. On the island that year, they had set up a butterfly house. This was the first year they had this butterfly house, "coincidentally" the year Mary showed up. She told me how she had walked through with butterflies all around, even landing on her. She was surrounded by her Father's love and floated through with tears streaming down her face. "Mary! You have to share this tonight at group. You will, won't you?" I knew I couldn't have stopped her from sharing it!

That evening was a beautiful summer night. Our gathering place that week was a place called Black Hand Gorge. Our resident expert, Bill Weaver, guided us up to the rock where native Americans had gathered long before our arrival. He gave us a little history lesson and we headed back to begin our group time together.

We gathered our chairs around in a circle in a grassy spot near the entrance to the park. "Before we get into our book discussion," I began, "I've asked Mary to share a really neat story with us about what happened while she was on her vacation."

Mary started her story. She had brought along her Butterfly House brochure as a visual aid. She held it up and got about 2 or 3 words out of her mouth, when a beautiful, big monarch butterfly flew into the middle of our circle. As Mary somehow continued with her story, around and through the tears, this messenger flew and danced in our presence, choreographing Mary's story in a way only an all-loving God could orchestrate. We all sat in amazement and as Mary wrapped up her story, the butterfly flew out of our circle and away.

For about a minute, we all just sat there in silence. It was truly a sacred moment. It may have been the most real God has ever been to me. We went on with our study for the evening. As we were wrapping up, Bill spoke up and said, "Do you realize that in the 3 or so hours that we've been here, we did not see any butterflies before Mary's story and we haven't seen one since her story?"

That is the God I know and love. And this is the theme he longs for us to embrace in each of our lives. This is my story; this is my song - He loves me so much more than anything I can imagine or dream or hope. Open up the doors and let him show you how much he loves you!