The Only Insect That People Don't Want to Squash Dead

Ever since I can remember, I have had a love for butterflies—those majestic, graceful ballerinas of the sky. If I were to be an animal, I would want be a butterfly. I could fly with ease, spend my days among the flowers, dance through the sky; it would be grand.

Every time I am in company with the creatures I am filled with awe. Their little tongues dipping into a flower for a late afternoon snack, the wings batting lusciously in the sun (soaking up every drop of Vitamin D), the striking patterns on every centimeter of wing—every part a fascinating melody of a species. 

I remember when I was eight and we went to a butterfly emporium near Niagara Falls. The air was humid with the creatures, the place filled to the max. Lush green jungle enveloped me on either side and mist clung to my shirt with every step. Butterflies danced to and fro, leaping from plant to person to paradise. It was nothing short of a wonder.   

And then there was last year when I got to raise a butterfly of my own, watching him grow from a half-inch long worm to a mystic monarch. Every day I would wake up and stare at Baby Alfred (his name) munching on milkweed and pooping simultaneously, getting bigger and bigger by the day. I watched him crawl up to the top of the pretzel jar that was his home, latch his behind to the top and begin to make a chrysalis. Then, he was absolutely still. Ten days later, I woke up to a see-through chrysalis, and a few hours after that, a stunning, GIRL butterfly (thereby named Alberta).   

I thought a lot about what was going on in that chrysalis in those ten days between caterpillar and butterfly-dom. Was Baby Alfred conscious the whole time? Could he breathe? Did he need to breathe? Did he disintegrate and reassemble as an entirely new being that never knew caterpillar-dom? What did he think of his wings? Did he always know that he was going to get wings? Was he bored? Did it hurt during metamorphosis?

See, there’s a lot of questions!

During times of drastic change in my life, the butterfly always comes up. This period of my life has been no different. Today, I was in my room looking at a butterfly guide that was given to me and broke down sobbing after flipping through only five pages of photographs. “OH MY GOSH THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFULLLLL,” I explained to no one in particular, tears streaming down my face. “LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE WINGS.” There were colors and wing shapes and names and so many beautiful creatures that it was just too much to handle.

Uncertainty is a prime time for change and a reorientation of one’s priorities, lifestyle, and agenda. Through all of this uncertainty, it’s easy for me to fall back into old patterns of behavior and begin to question the path I’m on. 

Yet today a pearl ring on my finger reminded me of the path I’ve chosen. “The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it (Matthew 13:45-46).” Knowing that I am unconditionally Loved by my Creator, and loving others are the constants that holds me through times of change and uncertainty.

And much like the caterpillar in the midst of its metamorphosis, soon I will dance in the freedom of my new wings.