Seeing the Butterflies

Any of you with children know that there are many lessons to be learned from infants and toddlers.   

I have a two-and-a half year old who’s too smart for her own good.  She can be sassy.   She now thinks sassiness is okay if she addresses me as “Honey” at the end of a brazen remark.   Example:  “Put my sandals on right now!...... Honey.”   The comment is typically followed by a slight tilt of the head and overt batting of the eyelashes.  She’s cute, and she knows it.   She’s independent.  She’s assertive.  She’s funny.  She’s smart as a whip.   She’s unquestionably my daughter.   Sometimes I watch her and fall in love with the life that I helped create.   Sometimes I watch her make a mess and, in the moment, want to give up on motherhood all together.   But if I take a deep breath and count to 10... or 20... or 5,793... I generally find a lesson to be learned.   This week, I learned to notice the butterflies.

It’s summer.   There are insects everywhere.   We share our 1,400 square foot home with spiders, gnats, flies, ladybugs, ants, earwigs, moths, mice (in the basement), the occasional cricket, and countless other unidentified arthropods.    My perpetually curious daughter loves to watch those insects.  She’s scared of ladybugs...all other bugs are fair game.   

A few days ago, the front door was open, and Daughter had her nose shoved up against the screen door as she watched traffic go by.   She left her post and ran into the kitchen exclaiming, “Momma!  Momma, look at the butterfly!”   So I humored her and went to look at the “butterfly” that she was so excited about.   Sure enough, something was on the screen of the storm door.   She called it a butterfly, and she was thrilled to just stand there and watch it.   But I was quick to correct her error.   “That’s not a butterfly; it’s a moth.”   She firmly stood her ground and maintained that it was indeed a butterfly.   I let her “win” the argument and conceded that it was a butterfly. 

I went back to cooking lunch, but kept thinking about the moth on the screen door.   I wondered if Daughter really was right.  I wondered if the insect on our screen door was a moth or a butterfly.   So I went to the infallible source.   I Googled it.   Difference between moth and butterfly.  I thought there’d be some huge entomological explanation to explain the difference between the two.   But there’s only one thing that separates them.  Do you want to take a guess to the one single tiny thing that makes a butterfly a butterfly, and not a moth?  Here’s the difference:  Moth’s have no “club” on the end of their antennae, but butterflies do.   That’s it.  A tiny little knob on the end of a tiny little antenna is the tiny difference that separates butterflies from moths.

Why did I think it was a moth instead of a butterfly?  To be honest, because it wasn’t pretty enough.   It didn’t possess wings with intricate patterns of three or more colors of the rainbow.   It didn’t cheerily flutter about, landing on daffodils and blades of grass.   It didn’t make me smile.   Instead, it was a washed out brown color.  It just sat on the screen of the door and didn’t move.    Daughter and I were both looking at the same thing, but our perceptions were different.  

My perception was skewed by opinions and biases and persuasions.   Daughter had a clearer perception than I did.   All she saw was an insect that had wings!  She didn’t care about its wing pattern or color or habit of flight.  She was just excited that a butterfly had landed on her door.   She was enjoying every second of it, and wanted me to enjoy it with her.  

My sassy two-and-a-half year old daughter taught me a lesson that day, a lesson about appreciating all the gifts I’m given, not just the pretty ones.  The gifts I’m given don’t always meet my expectations.  My kids came with health issues that can be inconvenient and downright scary.  I’m married to a workaholic.   I didn’t win the genetic lottery, and I don’t have the body of my dreams.  There are some months when the paychecks don’t cover the bills.   Friends have disappointed me with their words and actions.   Life does not always meet my expectations.    

But my daughter taught me to see the butterflies.   My kids have health issues, but they’re gorgeous and happy and (relatively) well-adjusted.   My husband is a workaholic, but he loves me and our children, and provides well for his family.   My body isn’t perfect, but it allows me to get to where I’m going without any major aches or pains.    Paychecks are small, but our fridge and pantry typically allow us half a dozen different dinner options.  Some friends have disappointed, but others have offered more grace to me than I ever thought humanly possible.  Life’s gifts aren’t always bold and colorful and cheerful.  Sometimes life’s gifts seem boring and lackluster.  But they’re gifts just the same.  

So I will choose to have the eyes of a child.  I will choose to see the beautiful in the midst of the plain, the magical in the midst of the ordinary , and the profound in midst of the simple.   I will choose to see the butterflies.   

Restoration

The basics.   That's what I'm relearning right now; the basics of my faith.  Lately, I've forgetten what is most important.  I've lost myself in theology and homiletics and doctrines.  Now I'm trying to find myself again in the simple, beautiful truths of the Gospel.  

I've been challenged to give up the unnecessary tasks that I've been clinging to, and slow down the pace that I've kept for so long.  So I rose to the challenge and started analyzing my life to see what I could give up and delegate and eliminate.   It hasn't been easy, but it's been necessary and refreshing.  Not only was I presented with the challenge to lay aside excess responsibility, but I've been reminded to engage in hobbies that refresh my spirit.   

It feels strange to type that;  an oxymoron.  When I think of hobbies, I don't think "spiritual growth."   I think "waste of time."   But with help from friends and the One who lives within me, I'm learning that my way of thinking isn't always right.  I'm remembering that it's in the most unexpected times that God speaks most clearly to my heart.  

Over the past month, I've given up several responsibilities that were monopolizing my time.  So there've been a few minutes of free time (gasp).  Last week, I got home from work and went down to my basement and hauled up an old coffee table that I picked up for free.  This coffee table is downright ugly.  It's finished in an orangy-gunstock color.  Someone used it as a workbench, so there's a dozen different colors of stain on the top, along with several holes from varying sizes of drill bits.  But I can't tell you how solid and sturdy that table is.  I about put my back out just carrying it up the stairs.  

When I first saw the table, I didn't see the ugly stain or the drill holes.  I saw its solidity, and the potential for what it could be with some elbow grease and a little know-how.  I'm currently right in the middle of refinishing it.   It's been slightly disassembled and heavily sanded and thoroughly cleaned.   I had to get down to the "bare bones" of the structure before I could start refinishing it for my intended purpose.  

And while I've been disassembling and sanding and cleaning, God has been reminding me that this is what the Church sometimes looks like: a pile of unwanted, underutilized furniture.  I can't tell you how many men and women that I've talked with lately that have absolutely no idea how much they have to offer.    When they look at the themselves, they see nicks and scratches.  They see all the damage that the world has done.  Maybe some of the damage was self-inflicted.  They feel like they've been discarded and left out on the curb for trash day.  They've believed the lies that they're unwanted or unskilled or unsightly.  But I've been blessed enough to be able to see beyond the surface.  Sometimes, God gives me glimpses of how solid and sturdy people are.  He lets me see the potential that lies within an individual.    He has reminded me that He's able to disassemble, repair, and refinish hearts and minds.  He has reminded me that He can accomplish His purposes with willing hearts.  He has reminded me that He is in the business of restoration.  

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here!"

Not the Happiest Mother's Day

All I wanted for Mother’s Day was a card from my husband and a picture of me and my kids all dressed up and ready for church.  I received neither.   I left for church fuming because my husband didn’t spend $4.99 on an overpriced Hallmark card designed by someone sitting in a cubicle.   I was doubly mad because my two-year old decided to hate me and didn’t want to sit still for two seconds to take a picture with me and her brother.  

I’ll be honest...  I didn’t have some instance of revelation or some heart stopping moment that caused me to snap out of my horrendous mood.  I’m stubborn, so it took me an entire day to realize how petty and childish I was being.  

I know there are some of you who think Mother’s Day should be a day for honoring the woman who birthed you.  There should be phone calls and cards and flowers and breakfasts in bed and jewelry and heartfelt letters.   I had that expectation this morning.  I thought that after spending 18 months of pregnancy, the least my husband could do was buy a stinkin’ card!  And M looked really cute this morning with her tights and tunic top and flower headband.  All I wanted was one picture! 

But I made myself choose joy instead of anger.  And over the course of the day, my mood changed.   My husband didn’t buy me an overpriced card for Mother’s Day.   But he does leave me notes of appreciation and encouragement all throughout the year, for no reason at all.   He didn’t make me breakfast in bed or take me out to dinner.   But he always does the dishes after dinner, and helps fold laundry when it starts to pile up.   

And my kids wouldn’t sit still for a photo.   But I’m thankful that they’re healthy enough to run around and throw a fit in protest.   That picture wouldn’t have been representative of what life at our house looks like, anyway.   We don’t live in our “Sunday clothes.”  I spend the majority of my time without makeup.  Who am I kidding?  Most of the time I refuse to put on basic supportive undergarments.   And M generally has breakfast in her hair, and dirt on her hands.  And L typically smells like poop or spit up.  I’m okay with that.  

So instead of focusing on what I didn’t get on this one day of the year, I looked at what I do have the other 364 days of the year, and I’m thankful to have been given so much.  

Pic-less

It started well over a year ago.  It was becoming trendy to deactivate Facebook accounts so that you could have more quality time with your family.  As if "quality time" could even be described as trendy.  I read dozens of blogs of women who were laying aside their smart phones and tablets and laptops and trading them in for finger paints and Dr. Seuss books and meaningful conversations with their children.

And as I read the thoughts from these women, I told myself over and over that I would never give a lifeless smartphone priority over my children.  That if these women were worth their weight in salt, they would be able to balance life; children and technology and household duties and all the miscellany that comes with it.  Then, last week I read a post from a friend.  (Actually, she was my high school choir teacher, but I swear the woman is only about 30 seconds older than I am.)  Anyway, I read her post.  And it echoed what I'd read a hundred times before.  I thought maybe it deserved some credence, so I started evaluating my time on my prized smartphone.   And I was sorely disappointed in myself.

You see, I bought my smartphone the week before my daughter had open-heart surgery, under the pretense that I could "easily communicate her health status with everyone."  So when she was in the hospital, I emailed and texted and posted updates.  Then, to occupy my time, I'd download an app here and there...music and games and magazines.  Two years later, that smartphone is rarely more than 15 feet away from me.   A few days ago, Daughter got ahold of my phone and entered an incorrect passcode over and over again, disabling the phone for 15 minutes.  When I realized what she'd done, I about went into cardiac arrest because I couldn't imagine functioning for 15 minutes without my beloved iPhone 4S.  It was then that I decided to stop.

Am I going to stop texting or posting on Facebook or chatting with friends?  No.  But I am going to stop overlooking my children and my life all in the name of time-sucking technology.  Today was Day 1.  The reward became beautifully evident at about 3:00 this afternoon.  Daughter has been a little sniffly, which equals a clingy toddler.  For her afternoon nap, she wanted to sleep in my bed.  I put her in bed, but that wasn't enough.  She wanted me to lie down next to her.  So I scooped up Son as well, and we all snuggled in.   Before I knew it, we were all asleep.  I woke up before Son and Daughter.  I looked over at the gorgeous boy and girl who I'd given birth to, and was overcome with.... the desire to grab my smartphone.  (What did you think I was gonna say?)  Yes, the first thing I wanted to do was take a picture of those beautiful sleeping babies and post it to Instagram (with a filter that would add appropriate dramatic effect) and Facebook so that my 300-ish friends and followers could witness how idyllic my life was at that exact moment.  But I withstood the urge to grab the time-sucking piece of metal and plastic. Instead, I just stared at my babies as they slept.  It wasn't anything exciting.  I actually really had to pee, and my arm was asleep, and I needed to blow my nose, and Son was lying too close to me and was making me sweat.  But I stayed still and watched them, and now that afternoon can never be replaced.

There are no pictures of sleeping babies.  There's no post that will collect 21 "likes" and 7 comments with smiley faces and hearts.  But there is the magnificent reality that I got to spend uninterrupted time with my babies.  And when they're old enough to actually remember these afternoons, they'll remember a Momma who was delighted to love her family well, not an unfamiliar woman who was consumed with "life" on the other side of a touchscreen.