Return of the Butterfly

Several years ago we were in deep stress over some issues that were out of our control. Some major medical issues and an upside down real estate market crushed our capacity to stay ahead of the curve. Each week brought deeper concern as the situation spiraled out of hand. We grasped for solutions and finally managed to  eventually recover. The path was not easy, the resolutions were painful and we endured enormous stress each day.

In the midst of our calamity, an amazing thing began that I have since learned to appreciate. I discovered butterflies, and the simple calming effect that they cast on my troubled soul. In fact, I would suggest that God sent butterflies into my life to remind me of His awesome beauty that surrounds us. I witnessed a steady flow of these beauteous creatures and began to anticipate their arrival each day. In the hottest part of a summer afternoon, they lazily fluttered and floated to a butterfly bush that drew them to their honey- scented blooms. I photographed them and built a sizable chest of memoirs to remind me of the utter calming that encompassed me in their presence. They are almost magical in how they cause you to stop worrying about your anxieties, stress or grief. They are a gift from God that help you to rise above your trouble or sorrow and to appreciate what you have.

A month ago my family was struck with an unexpected tragedy. Without warning, my son David suffered a massive heart attack and passed from this life. We were grief-stricken and shocked as we have never been before. Dave was at the peak of his life and leaves behind a wife and four children. Never has my heart been broken like it is today. Grief is personal and must be dealt with on a personal basis. We all search for peace and we ask God to comfort us through this unfathomable loss. It is so hard to find.

I planted five butterfly bushes last fall and two of them finally thrived and produced some beautiful blooms. I had not seen a single butterfly on them this summer. Last week I told Cheryl that I was expecting butterflies at any time because God knows when we need them.

On Saturday of last week, my daughter Mendy dropped by and she said, "Daddy I just saw a beautiful butterfly on your car when I passed by". No surprise, I thought, I was expecting it. 

On Monday, I was working at my desktop in the living room, and I heard a car horn alarm blasting loudly from the front of my house. I ran outside to check my car in the driveway and the alarm ceased from somewhere in the street. I walked around the car to check it out and all was OK. On the other side of the car, I glanced at the butterfly bush beside the garage and saw a butterfly on the bush.

I ran into the house and grabbed my camera and after a couple of minutes of picture posing, he fluttered away. He was a beautiful black swollowtail. I created a nice portfolio and hoped for another visit. It whetted my appetite, but I yearned for more, because I knew God had used them before to calm my anxieties.

Every day of this past week I took my camera to the butterfly bush in the early afternoon, because butterflies like the sun and the heat. Finally on Thursday, a golden swollowtail appeared and literally hung out with me for 15-20 minutes. They are generally skittish and easily spooked but this one allowed me to take countless pictures, as he fluttered from one bush to another and then back again. Silently and regally he lit up the garden space as he floated effortlessly. I watched as he flittered away in the clumsy, erratic style of all butterflies, the wind blowing him one way then the other as he disappeared into the woods behind my house.

I smiled deep in my heart as fragments of grief were knitted back together and applied to the mending of my soul. It is a subtle thing, not measurable to others but deeply satisfying to your self. I don't know if you will experience what I have, but it is my hope that the pictures I captured and include here will somehow touch another troubled soul as it does mine. God often uses the simple things in life to touch us and to help mend our broken hearts.

BUTTERFLY SUMMER

Summer breezes gently stir the fragrance in the air,
Sweet as honey blows this wind, so be not in despair,
For surely as the flowers bloom, in the middle of each day,
These beauteous nymphs will doubtless come, to take your cares away.

Whether golden striped, with spots of orange and blue,
Or midnight black with spots the same, in number, and in hue,
Regal and magnificent, these creatures flutter by
To gaze upon their countenance, is sure to cause a sigh

We bear our heavy burdens, and fret for much ado,
When all the while, our cares have no need to renew,
The artist of the universe, has brushed these beauties far and wide

Just a glimpse of their alightings, casts doubt and fear aside

So rise above your troubles, do not wallow in disdain,
Lift your wings in flight, and flutter through your pain.
For surely as these creatures light up each place they go,
They’ll soothe your thoughts and fears, and chase away your woe.

They float about from side to side, at the beckon of the wind,
So we can view through trials dark, that other forces mend,
While we would plot our courses straight, and all our troubles gone
To true our path we need but gaze, on the species ‘papillon’.

Written by David Warbritton - 2010

Absalom My Absalom

It matters not what crushed and fragmented your heart, a broken heart is a broken heart. It is a reflection of your grief, your pain and suffering because someone you loved dearly has slipped from this earth and ascended to a higher plain.We all experience heartache for lost loved ones, and manifest our feelings for others to see, though we would gladly endure our sufferings secretly. Heartache over a lost love one is a private thing, best shared with those we love and ones whom they loved.We go through the motions in the public theater and mask the pain that wells from deep within our souls.

When King David learned of the death of his son Absalom, he wept and cried out,

 "My son Absalom, My son, My son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you, Absalom, my son, my son. "

 What father would not wish the same. Yet God has a purpose for all things that happen; for the death of King David's son; for the death of my son David. Oh, the tears still roll unashamedly down my face at the thought of his passing, at the thought of what should have been and what could have been. I doubt that I will ever learn the "why" in my lifetime, but someone, somewhere will suddenly understand how Dave's death fits into their life and "why" God took him when He did.

Dave was at the absolute peak of his life; all of his dreams finally fulfilled; all of his hopes realized. God gave him a wife and family and a first born of his own; he had graduated with a Master's degree program from Liberty University, he had just joined the Jubilee Fellowship as an associate pastor to his "father in the ministry". He had achieved all the goals he set for his life at great sacrifice of his time and energy. He dearly loved Kodi and her children and he absolutely adored their son Joshua. He had a degree from a credible university, cramming his mind with so much knowledge of what God had called him to do. He had the platform to deliver the message in his heart, in the place that he loved the most. Dave was at the zenith of  every aspect in his life.

Just before he left for California I had a phone conversation with him about how proud I was of him, as a husband, a dad and his future calling to Jubilee Fellowship as an associate pastor. I said,
"I know that the Bible teaches against being proud, but I am so proud of you for all that you have done and are about to do."
He said, "You know Pop, it's OK to be proud of your son, when Jesus was baptized in the Jordan river by John the Baptist, God spoke from heaven and said, 'This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased', if God can be proud of his son then it's OK for us to be proud of our sons."
Amen.

Dave brought Joshua for a weekend visit a couple of weeks before he left for California. He knew that I would likely not see him as much after he moved so he came to share the little guy with me . I looked on it as bonding time with my grandson, but if I had known that it was my last time to share with Dave, I would have loved on my son a lot more. We shared much, but I might have been more prudent with my thoughts toward him .

Dave left us suddenly and without warning, literally in the twinkling of an eye. He was here full of life and energy and great expectations for the future , and now he is gone. Life is short at best and death is the final chapter that we must all endure. Thank God that we have the great "Hope" for life after this one, that we know we will meet again, that even now Dave is meeting with Dad and Mother and Aunt Millie and Uncle Jimmy, Rex and Irene, Granny and a host of others that have preceded him. Hallelujah! What a grand reunion, what a time of singing and praising Jesus. My heart aches for that reunion when we shall meet again.

I will never get the "why", but there is one. We grieve his loss, his presence, his touch, his humor, his sweetness, his caring, everything that made him what he was and still is in our hearts. Like King David, I cry out,

"My son Dave, my son, my son Dave, If only I had died instead of you, David, my son, my son!"
I cling to the enduring "Hope" that we share through faith in Christ our Lord. Amen and Amen.

Dave and Josh on their last visit.