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Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly


I started this blog on Tuesday but ran out of time to finish it (or so I thought). Seems like the ending was not written yet and so I had to wait.

Over the weekend, the girls found a butterfly (moth?) with a wounded wing. They came peeling into the kitchen looking for plastic ware they could poke holes in for a habitat. They gently placed the broken butterfly in the dish, gave it a flower (to eat?) and a paper towel soaked in water (to drink). I’m not sure about the flag, but knowing them I’m sure it was for add some pizazz.

Little sister checked on her patient faithfully each day and even wrote notes to the neighbor-girl and put them in her mailbox with updates (“are [sic] butterfly is doing good;” “gave her some water to drink”). 

On Tuesday morning, as I was leaving for work I did a check for myself and came to realization that our patient had died. I took the photo you see and immediately started having a deep, internal philosophical debate about whether to toss the butterfly and let her think it had flown away or to talk to her about it and have a proper burial. Thus, the beginning of what was supposed to be this blog entry.

After a long, hard, contentious day Tuesday, I got home and Little came running to meet me outside screaming “our butterfly got better and flew away!” She was beaming with pure, unadulterated joy. I met her with equal (though skeptical) excitement. I checked and, sure enough, the habitat had no resident. It was still upright with flower and water source in place; just absent a butterfly.

I was sure I knew what had really happened and waited until the kids weren’t around to ask the Hubs - did you toss the butterfly so the girls wouldn’t be sad? His answer literally stopped me dead in my tracks - he didn’t touch it.

So, in other words, the butterfly wasn’t dead. The butterfly got better. The butterfly flew away!

This revelation overwhelmed me with emotion and relief. It was a true resurrection when all seemed lost. What seemed dead, had life. With the faith of a sweet child, who knew all things were made new in Christ, that poor butterfly spread her broken wings. I had to check my own faith and brokenness at this door and lay it all at the cross, right then and there. Through Jesus we will all be made whole if only we have the faith to allow him in. 

And to add in the exuberant joy she had, with that unwavering faith, even in the face of seeming defeat - what a wonderful world it could be.

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