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!