Butterfly Chronciles Volume 34: Death and Taxes

Today I did our taxes.  In the process, I had to answer questions about my kids and answer about Zach that he died in 2011 and how many months had he lived with us?  We render unto Caesar.  We render unto God.

I see the world through a different pair of eyes.  I'm glad.  I just don't like how I got this new pair of glasses.  Sharing a birthday dinner with friends last night, we spoke about survival.  And those who don't.  I don't know why I get up each day, put on make-up, dress, and continue to put one step in front of the other.  Unless all those self destructive years of doing everything but honoring God and finally turning back around made me strong for this journey.  Choices?  It doesn't feel like a choice this life I'm living, but just the right thing to do - to keep going.  I think about that song that says "every step is one step closer to you"...for me that's one step closer to Zach.

I'm southern, completely.  Every time we Southerners come face to face with another Southerner, "How are you?" is the phrase we've said since we were born.  And "fine" is the answer.  Always "fine" or some kindred derivative.  I'm working on a new answer.  Although the asker never knows it, every time I'm asked, "How are you?", my mind immediately thinks of Zach, and how fine I am not. It's not fine or okay or good.  Survivable.  Different.  Anything but "fine."  So, I'm practicing other answers that are true.  "So blessed.  Eternally secure.  Graced out.  Thankful.  Saved.  Growing in Christ."  So many answers that are just so much truer than "fine."

I want to be a planter of seeds.  Or a waterer of seeds already planted.  I don't want to be "fine," and I never knew that before.  "Fine" is not enough.  Not nearly enough.  Through it all, I'm everything but fine, and that's just fine with me.

I don't understand it.  I don't know why.  Maybe soon I won't ask that question anymore.  I'm praying for that day.  What I do know is that the presence of God puts the energy and motion into every single step I'm able to take.  I won't ever be fine again.  I don't ever want to be fine again.  But I will keep taking one step after another - every day closer to Zach.  Life is fatal.  Plant seeds.  Don't just be "fine."  It's just not enough.

And every day, it's not just fine that I am given butterfly after butterfly.  It's so much more than just fine, and that's just fine with me.