Speaking of Spirit

 Photo (c) 2016 Rev. Linda M. Rhinehart Neas Long before her death, my mother told me that the yellow butterfly was her sign or symbol.  She said, "When you see a yellow butterfly, it will be me."  After her death, a yellow butterfly has visited me often.  The serendipity of these sightings is often so poignant as to bring me to tears.  Skeptics, on the other hand, tell us that we see signs and symbols because we want to see them. They say that our need to have some kind of proof causes us to find an answer where there really isn't one. This may be, however, there are times when things happen, when signs appear where the variables are simply too high to brush off as matter of fact. In my life, I have found signs and symbols that could not be reasoned away on multiple occasions. Allow me to give you an example of the most recent event.  My daughter and family were on a river in Maine with her husband's sister and her family. The boys were playi...

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 e...

Sometimes, it is difficult to write...too many things going on...no time to gather my thoughts...or I am simply too tired.  This can be a BIG problem if you are doing a weekly column, as I did back when my girls were young. How did I manage? Well, to be honest, I often prayed. Yes, that is right, I said, “prayed!” Know what? It worked.  Somehow, in the middle of the praying, something would happen, or someone would call, or I would pick up a book, paper or magazine and there would be my inspiration! Crazier still, those were often the times I would hear from readers who would tell me that what I had written was an answer to their prayers! Imagine!  However, prayer isn't the only way to find peace and solace when our souls are in turmoil and pain. The past few months have been difficult. In addition to the deaths of several loved ones, there are the anniversaries (birthdays and anniversaries of the deaths of my parents and brother ) which cause me to...