Momma and the Butterflies

Momma and butterflies have always gone together for me. Mainly, because, when she was a little girl, her mother would embroider a small yellow butterfly somewhere on the dresses that she made for her. So, when I see a yellow butterfly, I always think of Momma.

Butterflies are symbolic of metamorphosis, which isn't surprising since they begin as catepillars and grow to be beautiful winged creatures. For Momma, they meant that things would be OK, that whatever the situation, it would change for the better.

The most dramatic example of this was what she called her "hospital butterfly miracle." Momma suffered from myasthenia gravis, a neuro-muscular disease that robbed her of the function of the right side of her body. When her disease was bad, everything on the right side became paralyzed. She couldn't walk, hold things, open her eye or breathe. 

In the early stages of her disease, she would be rushed to the hospital with doctors diagnosing her condition as everything from strokes to multiple sclerosis. At one point, she was placed in an iron lung to help her breathe. These were scary times with a new born and three other children at home.

She fought to get out of the iron lung. Finally, the doctors placed her in the ward. As was the custom in those days of multiple-bed wards in big city hospitals, there were large double French doors at one end that led to a balcony, where patients sometimes sat on sunny days.  Momma's bed was at the end of the row near the doors.

One morning, even though it was only March, the head nurse decided that the ward needed fresh air. She opened the doors to the balcony. Momma, incapable of getting out of bed at the time, asked to be propped up enough to see out the doors. Sitting there, looking out at the sky, she prayed that she would get home to her babies. Suddenly, through the open doors flew the most beautiful yellow butterfly. Momma couldn't believe her eyes! What's more, the butterfly flew directly over to her bed, landed on her foot, stayed for enough time that, as Momma told it, "Peace melted through me," and then, flew out the door.

Instantly, she knew all would be well. The miracle of a butterfly in March in a hospital, landing on her and no one else was all she needed to believe that, "this too shall pass."

So, whenever I am in doubt of things and I pray for guidance, I often get answers via butterflies. Sometimes, they are yellow, but other times they come in the myriad colors of Creation.  Always, I feel "Peace melt through me."  

Yesterday, as I was beginning to stress over being the on-call minister at a local church for the month of August, the mail came. As I lifted the contents of the mailbox out, I beheld the most beautiful postcard.  Hand-made with love from a friend, it was covered in butterflies (see the picture above).  Instantly, I knew all would be well. I gave a prayer of thanks for my dear friend, for Momma and for the butterflies that brought me assurance.

May we all be open to the signs that Peace and Love do exist in this crazy world. May we be filled with Hope and rest easy, knowing that change for the better will come. Blessings to all!