Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 16: I’m Not Making This Up

16 weeks, 3 days

“A life of thanksgiving becomes a life of thanks-living.”
Anne Voscamp, One Thousand Gifts

If you perused yesterday’s blog, I tried to tell you all about how God has gone ahead of us. And today, grace once again poured like rain soaking me in my time of needing God.

First of all, anyone who has ever moved and inhabited the same space with 4 other people for 11 years prior to the move understands accumulation of STUFF ALL CAPS REQUIRED. For minutes, hours, filling the expanse of two whole days, I packed, we packed, they packed boxes encroaching on oxygen, box towers looming, box claustrophobia setting in. (And stuff still remaining bwahahahah laughing at me and multiplying, spreading, a black plague growing under that roof.)

Not fun just necessary. Bubble wrapping and boxing and relocating lives. And that’s when again, God goes ahead of us. Message #1: Taking a peppermint, no-whip, extra hot mocha front yard break in the heaven door opened golden sunshine caressing breezy cool warmth of mid-morning, I looked up to Madison’s second floor eye to the world and can you guess what stained glass paper artwork bejeweled her window? Yep, another butterfly.

And here is the I'm blind part…I’d never noticed exactly what was on the picture, just that the picture was there, stuck on the window on the front of the house, waiting for the “take it down” letter from the community association deed restriction spies. Isn’t that sad – how I missed God’s blessing by using life as an Iron Man long distance sprint, swim, bike faster faster faster instead of a passionate resonating Tango living with defined movements and moments full, wild, and joyful.

Do you do that…? Miss the blessings because they are whizzing by blurry…tornadoing down the toilet forever flushed? A dead child is a screeching halt making you see things you've never seen...don't wait for that kind of train wreck stop sign. Pay attention in this very right nowness.

Message #2...flown into the mailbox, after the boxes were taped and moved and stored, a letter on kitchen counter had traveled from far away, from a distant mom cousin who only mostly knows of me, and who doesn’t know the butterfly story - a letter, the envelope, the card, flitting butterflies on front back inside out.

Message #3: Day’s packing end also brought such lower back pain that I felt like I was in labor waiting for my water to break. I sunk down into hothothot frothy lavender bubbles, raisin skining away an hour reading Ann Voscamp’s luscious book (it is taking a long time because it needs to be savored). As always when I get really tired or after dealing with "that" house stuff or when reading the Voscamp book, my emotions erupt. For a while, exhausted, I sobbed and cried begging God over and over to tell Zachery how much I miss him, and how glad I am that he's in heaven and for God to do His work in me to heal me. I was bone tired back aching too long of a day tired.

Bubbles disappearing down drain, time for jammies! Stored in the folks’ attic (in their house we've called home since September 13), my winter night-night wear snuggles tightly in a giant Ziploc bag waiting for frost and rescue and air and wear. Silky soft PJ’s pink and from a purchase many years past, slid over heat heightened reddened limbs. Crumpled over to stave off the back pain, I hobbled and bobbled down the stairs to refuel an empty moving day beaten body.

As always, everyone seems to be paying more attention than me these days because my mom’s face held a rapt expression that was kinda maybe a little weird. Weird - until I saw what she saw. Yep, butterflies on the jammies…jammies I’ve owned for YEARS and worn for years and lounged around days and a nights in and didn't remember or see the butterflies. God goes ahead of me even when I'm too tired and sad or busy to pay attention.

Ya know, when God commands, “Be still and know I’m God” we are really just plain ignorant, and I’ll use that ugly word STUPID, if we don't pay attention! The gifts He gives are every moment of every day of every breath. Grace, grace, and more grace. If you haven’t given your life to Christ, let me warn you. The Christ life can be CRAPTASTIC. Loosing a child who chose his own way out SUCKS. But even in this, even for Job, even for YOU, there is infinitely "enough God" and grace to see the tragic become God's glory. I'm not making these butterflies up, and talking about it is for God's glory.

Moment by moment, He has and will continue to go ahead…Thank you God. Again and again, thank you for the butterflies.

“A life of thanksgiving can become a life of thanks-living.” Be still, give thanks, watch for butterflies, TANGO!

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 15 – Who Goes Ahead of You?

16 weeks, 2 days

Deuteronomy 31:8

The LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.”

As the Christmas holidays neared, we dreaded the day, the lack of Zach, the memories of past Christmas gatherings.

It took a swift kick in the butt by dearest mom to make me crawl out of the blues and get it together for the girls. While it was hard, Michael and I hope this first new normal Christmas without Zach will eventually be a happy memory for Tay and Maddie. There are so many Zach Christmas stories, but these two we talked about and enjoyed and cried over.

My Dad: “Zachery was the most unselfish kid I’ve ever known. One Christmas after asking Zach what he wanted for Christmas, Zach replied, 'Grandad, can I just have some treats for my dogs.'” That is our Zach.

The Coal: Uncle Greg our “word up, yo, yo, yo, dawg, peace out” crazy wonderful comedienne uncle decided to give Zach a gag gift for Christmas one year. Zach loves his Uncle Greg ‘cause they are kinda like two peas in a pod. Unwrapping uncle’s package, Zach had a mischievous grin spread across his face which read, “I get it, Uncle Greg.” It was a bag of coal. In and of itself the coal story is good, but here’s where it warms the heart.

Weeks ago in Zach's room, we sobbed through trying to pack away our dead child's life, item by item, touching, smelling, hugging, holding all those things he held, wore, used. Overcome by knowing he would never touch his things again, we slowly began to uncover all these treasures Zach had secreted away. These were things he held extra dear because he got rid of anything he didn't use - or so we thought. That Christmas gag gift bag of coal from Uncle Greg was stashed away among his most prized possessions. From heaven, Zachery still loves his Uncle Greg. That is our precious Zach.

Lots of butterflies came to help us through Christmas.

Dear God, You know how much we miss him and hurt over his eternal home-going. But you are the one who goes ahead of us. The butterflies speak volumes about who our God is, and how He has gone ahead of us from long ago - long before Zach's shell was lowered into ground. God, always ahead of us.

While packing our home yesterday, Taylor found this. Zachery was 5 when he drew it. God goes ahead of us.

Later yesterday afternoon, a realtor took me to see several houses. This was one of the bedrooms in my favorite house. God goes ahead of us.

Back to packing today in preparation for the movers, we found a painting Madison did several years ago which hung in her room for a long time. A butterfly was glued to the corner...I forgot to photograph it, but again God goes ahead of us.

In our bedroom today, I was packing my dresser, and in the top drawer, I found a glass container I got as one of Mamaw's treasures after she died. Usually, this container sits on the sink in the bathroom I use downstairs - Michael shared our upstairs bath with Zach. I have no idea how that little glass bowl ended up in that drawer upstairs. But, upon opening the top, I found two jewelry pieces that were also from Mamaw. God goes ahead of us.

For years now, Mud Pie has been where we go to paint and glaze pottery. In 2003, Taylor finished this masterpiece. Raeann and Cynthia found it stored in a cabinet while packing our kitchen today. God goes ahead of us.

And there are so many other butterflies I haven't shared. There are just too many to write them all here.

If someone told me this story-the story of all these butterflies, I might not believe them. It is unbelievable to me even as it happens. That's why I try to take pictures of as many as I can and save them with a name that reminds me of where they came from. And they come - usually more than once - EVERY SINGLE DAY - since September 15 - when we first heard a story about a butterfly and someone else's dead child.

Leaving our home filled with all the memories of Zachery is a difficult decision. But three of us who were there that night just can't be there in the dark of night. Trauma is the only word that comes to mind to describe it. And we relive it as if it were happening in the moment, and when He is ready, God will heal us - or He won't. It may be our thorn used for His glory in some way. But these butterflies show me over and over that He has gone and continues to go ahead of us. It is, to me, an absolute miracle.

Before Zachery died, I use to pray for faith like George Mueller. He sat his family down in a house empty of food and gave thanks to God for blessing his family with a meal that wasn't there. A ham was delivered in response to his thankfulness...I want that "Thank you in advance for your blessings" kind of faith, and one of the beauty from ashes of Zachery's death is that I think I am learning. I'm giving thanks already for the housing God will provide; I'm not asking, just thanking. It is a big step for me with God - really living with real true hard-core faith. What God has promised, I know He will deliver, and it will be for our best. And I am thanking Him because He has already gone ahead of us.

I don't deserve any of this God going ahead of me. But that's what makes Him God, and He goes ahead of you too. Enjoy it. Slow down, pay attention, and don't miss the butterflies, whatever form they take, that He sends you. And He is always sending them. Every single day.

God always goes ahead of us. He is a good God. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved.

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 14 - All I Want for Christmas

15 weeks, 2 days (3 days until Christmas)

Luke 2:8-11

In the same region there were shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

Have you ever noticed that anytime God sends a messenger, we the people shudder in fear, and our gracious God answers, “Do not be afraid.”

Do not let your heart be troubled…

All I want for Christmas this year is the strength and courage to live without a troubled heart – to keep going and not be afraid in spite of the new normal, to believe and claim every promise God has given, knowing and trusting without doubt that what He has promised, He will deliver, and especially-even though it is unbelievably painful- to give thanks that the Lord has our boy for Christmas and forevermore. And, I want the opportunity to share those promised gifts with others, without the distraction of tinsel and shiny paper wrapped boxes and crazy parking lots and pushing, shoving throngs waiting in check-out lines.

God has gifted me the butterflies as a constant reminder that Zachery accepted His gifts, but also as an opportunity to tell the butterfly story and share His gift of Christ with everyone I meet. Those butterflies, and many times more than one, come every single day. God is faithful.

Zach’s death has changed so many of us, and I believe God will move in His perfect timing, and the beauty will slowly, surely sift from the ashes.

I know I can’t do anything for God, but I know how much HE can do. And at Christmas, isn’t that the point? What He did? For by grace we’ve been saved through faith in Jesus Christ, not because of anything we've done or will ever do. God gave us Jesus Christ, His only uniquely born son. All we have to do is believe. That is the gift and the only one that matters at all at Christmas or any other time.

As hard as it is to be in the “Dead Child Club,” as another member described it, God went there first – voluntarily, for us, to give us hope and a future. This Christmas, all I want to do is give thanks for that gift, to share it with others, and to watch the difference God can make in a dying world in spite of the death in our ours.

Unto us a child is born. Unto us a Savior is given. It is Christ the Lord.

Do not be afraid. Do not let your heart be troubled. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and know why you celebrate Christmas. Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above.

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 13: Finding God's Normal

John 3:16

For God so loved the world, that He gave His uniquely born Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.

15 weeks - 5 days before Christmas

Funny how grief’s roller coaster ride is a constant surprise of good then a slam of bad. It really does just plain suck, but I know God has a reason for all of this.

We are trying on this new normal. Right now, I can’t imagine it will ever fit like anything other than an irregular garment, not quite comfortable, pulling off center, never like a glove, underwear that keeps riding up. All the new normal "firsts" are like an off key symphony.

For years in our earliest days of homeschooling, we spent hours upon hours at the Houston Museum of Natural Science, walking through special and permanent exhibits, taking classes – animals, dissection, history - picnicking, riding the train around Herman Park, and finally stopping at the park’s playground where on Houston summer days we ran through the watery wonderland. We went there a lot.

Last week, a sweet friend brought dinner and tickets to the Cockrell Butterfly Center at HMNS, so we planned a trip to spend time with Madison while Taylor was with friends in Austin.

On the scheduled day, Michael and Madison were together so I was to meet them at the museum. Driving closer and closer to that building, I was filled with the memories of Taylor, Zachery, and Madison waltzing through the museum, smiles, giggles, hands held, the ooohhhs and aaahhhs of discovery. The flashback to those past days when the hole was filled with Zach hit hard as I realized how difficult this new normal first visit to the looming building would be, and my stomach and throat tightened, the memories now flowing faster, a threat to my next step, to any step.

For Madison’s sake, because she lives and we must go on with the hole present, we strolled into the butterfly exhibit lazily, leisurely like when our kids were so small their legs slowed life down to a pace where beauty moved like honey, and we lived unhurriedly and could still see the beauty without it racing by in a blur. We walked and we watched a sky full and a rain forest full of butterflies flutter and dip and dive and alight to sprinkle yellow eggs on green leaves or to sip nectar from God’s color palette.

Painful, searing, joyful, lovely. Trying to adapt to a mixture of opposites stirred together to make this ill fitting garment of the now normal fit, not like before normal, but new normal.

God is gracious – he gifted us three. Two are here, and we must take another step and another to not miss the joy of our Taylor and Madison as we learn to live with Zach in the Lord’s keeping.

I believe God sends these butterflies to give me something to talk and write about in a deep longing to tell anyone who will listen not to waste a moment with the ones loved.

Tell them you love them every moment through hugs and kisses and soothing words and band-aids and in words that train them up in the way they should go – God’s way. Laugh in the spilled milk moments – they will disappear like morning fog and be gone into grown-up.

The children - live to know that if they are taken home, they are eternally home, face to face with the Lord – in that forever place of no more sorrow, no more tears because the old things have passed away. Every day, remind them of the gift of Jesus Christ as their Savior, The Way, The Truth, and The Life – that faith alone in Christ alone is salvation. Give them God through Jesus Christ EVERY SINGLE DAY.

It brings great comfort. This knowing that Zachery is in heaven. It is the bright light in the midst of black longing for him back. God knew the number of his days. Like He did for Jonah, God could’ve sent a fish to that precious boy-man in those last moments. He didn’t. And although our hearts are broken, the wings of butterflies are serving to piece them back together into the just not quite right normal that we are learning now, but maybe a better normal in terms of who we become from this fire.

There would be no kind of normal if the Lord wasn’t carrying us on butterfly wings.

John 3:16 – Wings to home and God’s normal, and why we celebrate Christmas. May yours be full of God's goodness.

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 12 - Anger and Heaven and Butterflies and Manna

14 weeks, 2 days - Thank you for praying. Today is a better day.

He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.

Limited by time and space and humanness, I try to grasp the enormity of God and His promise of heaven. Death is inevitable, but don’t we lean on a natural, expected order…grandparents, parents, natural order, not children first?

Being angry at God, I’m told, is normal.

And in a way, I am angry. And angry about things that when all swirled up together really point to my inability to grasp the ultimate of God and who He is and how He works.

What boils me is that we are missing Zach – a chunk of ourselves ripped away, and he’s not missing us – not even a little. How could he if heaven is true? And we weep and wail and wish for him back, and he’s immeasurably happy and why doesn’t that make me feel okay? This is the fall…and the fall-out…

We struggle each day to put first the thought that Zachery is with Him, no more sorrow, no more pain, the old things have passed away.

And then in my mirror of Satan arrogance questioning God’s perfect plan, I think about what it will be like to reach heaven...all this pain we’ve gone through, and what, in a warped way, bothers me the most is that Zachery has been in eternity enjoying God’s presence and will he even take notice of our coming there? And after all this pain, will we even care upon arrival there? Or is that the future reality – that we will be so consumed by our good God that none of it will matter or count at all? Can I believe that? It is an odd impossible lovely thing this Christianity. To believe in something that is impossible to comprehend and to know it is completely wholly forever true.

To believe in the God, maker of heaven and earth, who can send butterfly after butterfly and then some, and yet to live the life of the wandering Israelite with manna from heaven and only complaining about heaven’s gifts…this is me. This is my life.

And isn’t it pathetic that my infinitesimally small mind can’t come to grips with the Christian reality that Zach doesn’t need his mommy anymore. He’s in THE presence, what could I possibly give him now? And even though I am filled with joy that he is there, I’m still mad and broken and crushed that he’s not here. And around and around and around my mind goes trying to make sense of the impossible. God.

If I am to weave through its maze, God will lead or He won’t down the road of this grief. No human person can alleviate the pain I am feeling. But God. He can, yet after this, the dying of Zachery, can I really say and believe and want “Thy will be done?” For what purpose has this pain been vomited upon our family?

Is it perhaps a bleary eyed waking moment when I’m struck with the realization that His butterflies return me to Him. And with each wing flutter and passing of the butterfly story, He is brought to a mind who believes or needs to believe…and if I focus on that in the darkest moments, maybe I really can live “Thy Will Be Done” and give thanks for His manna-butterflies.

There is a plan and I don’t need the map although I want to snatch it right out of God’s hands. All I need to do is follow the butterflies…I hope you will follow yours.

Manna is everywhere. We just need to keep our eyes open.

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 11 - Be Still and Know

14 weeks, 1 day - December 14, 2011

A.M.beginning with grief knocking. I was blessed by an errand outing with Raeann and Madison where the grief knocked knocked knocked on the door, its vapor searching for a crack, me pushing back, holding the door closed. And then I was back to quiet house – fought out. It rumbles back freight train slamming bone and sinew reaching heart shattering anew. Levity of lifted moments demolished, tumbling, hitting bottom and despair – again. I hate it. It is always a surprise…as if the happy moments are a hiding demon of the grief sent to lull and seduce me into thinking this is it…this is where I am better and stronger and won’t face those demons again, then I am horned in the gut where spews immediate rushing drowning pain.

It comes in the strangest places and times. Walking through Target not being able to go down the isle of boy togs and toy aisle where Zachery and I spent so much time from birth to toddler to man child – sifting through t-shirts and Legos. I couldn’t go there. The memories erupting, and I veered away looking down that aisle, a tomb of never-mores, tingles of dread ending in shiver.

At the beginning – weeks ago, I served meals prepared by hands of grace delivered to door with hugs and words of encouragement.. When I portioned out the meal, plate by plate, delivering each to Michael, Taylor, Madison, me, there was the finding of one more plate, 5th plate, on the counter - full, steaming, and him not there to partake. Heartbroken, disbelief, the horror, that filled plate, with no Zachery to take in the blessing bounty and there was the empty Zachery chair. Why is he gone? And I fill with the emptiness of that chair tonight. Empty.

Today – trying to do something to kick that knocking grief out, dishwasher to cabinet sorting and stacking and putting those ever spilling out cheap Tupperware impersonating plastic containers away, seeing Zachery in mind’s eye like a movie arranging and organizing a cabinet full at a house no longer home and me, in now time, falling back, away from the cabinet at this temporary home, breath evaporating as I heaved on the floor in sobs. No more Zachery in the kitchen or anywhere here, ever. Once again mind adopting and vaulting self in the veil of disbelief, silent screaming no no no no no, God why?

I stop. I pray. I suck in. I can breathe in gulps. This journey, a gourmet taste of hell. So many empty spaces where he is no longer, and when will that be normal? And can that ever be normal? And do I want that to be normal? No. I want him back. I just want him back. Missing to a panic. I just want Zachery back.

Tonight, delivering child to friends for a wedding trip to Austin, grief envelops swirling worry like a fog I swat flailing knowing worry is wasted but trained by events irreversible. Worry is another fight I wait with God to win.

We are so different, altered, changed. Waiting, waiting, being still to know He is God.

Please, God. Ease our pain even though I’m really not ready for it to be easier. But I know hope when the good comes. And You know without me thinking or saying or asking or begging. You know. And many were the butterflies today. And we’re holding on.

How does a body take another step without God? I can't imagine...

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 10 – A Spring Day in Winter

13 weeks 6 days

I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in
Christ Jesus our Lord.

My dad emailed me an article which I opened this morning about Tony Dungy. It helped. Alot - both Michael and me.

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/feature/featureVideo?page=amazinggrace

He lost a son to the same monster that grabbed ours. Whatever the monster’s name, it seems none of us who have been through this can pinpoint a reason or answer the question why, but the monster lurks and devours and prowls like that roaring lion in scripture. And for as long as it takes, we will ask why while knowing there is no answer.

Coming though – a time when we no longer seek the why because the answer died with our boy and we can rest – at least that is the story I am told by those who’ve gone before us.

Lucidity today. Gently rocking peace waves, thoughts of planning, teaching, doing, living, calmer breathing. A fleeting release from grief’s straight jacket.

A bench enveloped by sunshine arms shared with Madison, slower living, a treasure time, gifts of butterflies from her magazine.

Giggles with Taylor, funny voices, a “counselor” song chanted to and from, talk of graduation, weddings, friends, thankfulness.

Michael’s caressing word whispers, “One step at a time. One step at a time. We will make it through this.” Always patient, always kind.

Grief, a traitorous villain, will steal in again spreading itself over the sunshine and covering those unexpected good moments like a death shroud, stealing hours and days, the door closed tightly against the light.

But that sun, those thoughts of accomplishment and planning in future tense, passion in the present coming someday…the hope grows, budding from frozen ground, green sprouts struggling from icy grave reaching bravely toward life – escaping grave for blossom.

Lord, the hope is growing, the peace surpassing the dark and feeling the sunrise of life anew. Slowly…and I document this good day to breathe in and savor this spring to survive those days so dark.

Hold Zachery in your sun and thank you for those good minutes and hours and promises and butterflies. I still need them.

And you know.

Butterfly Chronicles: Volume 9 - Silver Blue Butterfly Tree

13 Weeks, 4 days

“For he is the living God
and he endures forever;
his kingdom will not be destroyed,
his dominion will never end.
He rescues and he saves;
he performs signs and wonders
in the heavens and on the earth.
He has rescued Daniel
from the power of the lions.”

Son, your Aunt showed me a picture today of a Christmas tree she made for you. Covered with blue and silver butterflies, it sits where a headstone will eventually rest marking your box. Seeing that photo, I needed to be there where I haven’t been since that day we left your box where it is planted next to where your grandfather’s box will rest one day. Cross-legged on the ground next to that silver with blue butterfly tree, I wept through tissues balled up, piled high. God always knows the way, and as I sat there I opened His book, reading and relishing the histories of Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. A moment of clarity tiptoed like a boulder into my consciousness.


You, son, are with our God who walled out the licking furnace flames and locked lion jaws. Dripping from mind through cells is this truth that you have gone to a God who calms seas or splits them open for His pleasure. A God who seats and unseats kings and rulers and wise men, awarding kingdoms to whom He will. You are in the presence of our God who by the word of His power spoke the universe into existence.

Sitting there next to your buried box, I felt His peace surround and comfort me, flowing through and around me like a light calming. Feeling the day your shell box came to live here, again I wept but now filled and resting in the truth about Who holds you.

Row after row after row of vases full of flowers marked the ashes to ashes dust to dust end here for us all and I was completely at peace for the first time in 13 weeks and 4 days in the presence of our all things are possible God.

Lasting only moments, the peace like one of those blue butterflies floated up and away - the gray of the grief cloak settling once more, but me left with a God glimmer of future where I'll never be whole, but I will survive because You are God.

And I thank you for sister and her silver blue butterfly tree gift for Zachery. What a Christmas he will have this year.