Butterflies
I remember walking down Park Avenue in East Rutherford one day years ago and wondering why, in the spring, one of the trees was a brilliant autumn orange. It stood out, even from several blocks away.
When I got closer, I found out why. Every available inch of the tree was covered with Monarch butterflies. The leaves and branches were a blaze of black and orange, and other butterflies swooped around the tree in lazy, graceful arcs. The sight of it stopped me dead in my tracks.
I felt for a second like some kinda suburban Moses standing in front of a burning (or winged) bush. Supposedly, Moses couldn’t look directly on the face of God. That fleeting moment was a reminder, though, that we unexpectedly–and sometimes obliquely–find ourselves face to face with God.
April 11th, 2008 at 10:52 pm
…I know exactly what you mean. Wait until you see your child’s heartbeat in an ultrasound or hold them for the first time. If God exists, it is indeed evident in moments like these.