[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Tuesday, August 6, 2013

[Poppa Bear]

Thanks for blessing us today.
In His loving grip.
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Paul" <oilofgladness47 at gmail.com>
To: <bhwm at yahoogroups.com>
Sent: Tuesday, August 06, 2013 11:38 AM
Subject: [Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Tuesday, August 6, 2013


> Well, as this is being written here in eastern North America, it's 
> midafternoon.  Don't know what time of day it is in your part of the 
> world, but I hope and pray that things are going well for you.
>
> Pam Bostwick lives in Utah, and today she graces our screen readers and 
> Braille displays with her insightful article entitled "A Gift of Love," 
> rendered as follows:
>
> "Mom, come chase butterflies with me," my daughter called as the screen 
> door banged behind her.
>
> I groaned and picked up another potato.  "I'd love to, Robin, if I ever 
> get this done."
>
> "Then you'll have something else to do," she complained.
>
> I paused, peeler in midair.  Potatoes would wait but time with my daughter 
> wouldn't always be there.
>
> "You're right." I smiled.  "It's too nice outside to stay in a stuffy 
> house.  Let's go."
>
> Robin hesitated.  "Mom, aren't butterflies too small for you to see?"
>
> Robin had always been unusually perceptive about my near blindness. 
> "It'll be okay." I patted her shoulder.  "I can look at one through your 
> eyes."
>
> Out in the warm sunshine, it didn't take Robin long to find a monarch 
> butterfly we could follow.  "It's real colorful, Mom, with brown and 
> yellow wings.  I wish you could see it."
>
> "I'm afraid your butterfly moves too fast for that," I chuckled.  "I have 
> an idea, though.  You tell me when it is by the big things I can see. 
> Then at least I'll know where it's at."
>
> The two of us chased the butterfly around the yard, and I felt like a kid 
> again.  The soft grass tickled my hot toes, and the slight breeze 
> refreshed the humid day.  Meanwhile, Robin explained, "The butterfly is by 
> a tree and going toward the sky.  Now it's near the hedge but is headed 
> for the garbage cans."
>
> Soon Robin told me, "I've lost it."
>
> I suggested we take a rest, so we flopped down under our old sycamore 
> tree.  After a minute Robin said, "Maybe I can think of a way for you to 
> see a butterfly."
>
> I squeezed her hand.  "I'd love to watch one, Robin." I shrugged.  "But I 
> don't know how I can."
>
> "A butterfly is one of God's prettiest creations," Robin reflected. 
> "We'll just have to find a way for you to look at one.  I'll be back."
>
> She scurried away, and I marveled at her simple faith.  While I waited for 
> her, I looked around at the majestic purple mountains, the green in the 
> tree and the yellow ball of sun.  Even though I missed most of the details 
> in my surroundings, I was grateful.  What if my world remained in total 
> darkness?
>
> I must have dozed because the next sound I heard was Robin's eager voice 
> as she shook me awake.  "Mom, I have something to show you."
>
> She thrust a bottle into my hands.  I moved it next to my face and 
> squinted until my eyes focused on a brown and yellow something that darted 
> inside the jar.
>
> "A butterfly!" My voice was filled with the awe I felt.
>
> "I captured it just for you."
>
> "It's beautiful." My throat tightened, and I could hardly go on.  "It's so 
> close.  I can watch it with my own eyes while it spreads its tiny wings." 
> I held the bottle away and hugged her.  "Thank you, Robin.  Thank you, 
> God," I whispered.
>
> "You can keep it," Robin offered.
>
> "I'd like to Honey, except no one, especially a butterfly, wants to be 
> cooped up in a bottle."
>
> "Oh, Mom! If you let it go, you won't be able to see it anymore."
>
> "No, but I'll always remember."
>
> Once more I peered at what I could glimpse of the butterfly's tiny wings. 
> For a trembling moment my eyes lingered.  I was not quite ready to let 
> this moment of seeing go.  I longed to engrave its colors in my mind.  I 
> peered at it until my eyes blurred.  Then I gave the jar back to Robin.  I 
> had viewed a butterfly.  It was enough.
>
> "Mom, do you ever feel like you're in a bottle?"
>
> "What do you mean?"
>
> "Well, if I was a butterfly in a bottle, I don't think I'd see much around 
> me.  That must be how it is for you."
>
> I was touched by her insight.  "Yes, I guess that's how it is unless I 
> have someone like you to show me things like butterflies."
>
> "I'll go dig up a worm for you to look at."
>
> "Oh, no," I laughed as I turned up my nose.  "I think we can pass on that 
> one."
>
> We walked back to the house embracing a new kind of closeness.  Someday, 
> when Robin soars away to find her new life, she and I will have forgotten 
> that the potatoes were left unpeeled.  Yet, we will treasure the memory of 
> our butterfly and afternoon spent together.
>
> Wow, but what a precious story between a mother and her daughter.  This 
> reminds me of a little six-year-old girl named Carly Butterworth who lives 
> maybe five or six houses down the block from me.  Sometimes she sees me 
> outside and says a little girl "Hi." One time, she led me into her 
> parents' flower garden and in her childish way began describing the 
> flowers that she could see.  Sometime later I learned that, as a much 
> younger child, she had been abused quite severely by an older man, and it 
> surprised Mrs. Butterworth that she would take to me like she did.  I 
> don't know if that family are Christians or not, but I'm convinced that 
> somehow the Lord put it into this little girl's heart that I wouldn't do 
> what that other man did, and the results were history.  So, in a sense, I 
> can grasp what Mrs. Bostwick felt as Robin so insightfully spoke to her.
>
> And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, 
> individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Your 
> Christian friend and brother, Paul
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