The Wounded Monarch

The monarch butterflies have been wafting through our garden these last few weeks. The spring trickle has not compared in quantity to the autumn 2010, but every one we spot is like treasure. Their return and some unrelenting troubles for loved ones have me remembering this post and holding fast to God's promises. Thank you for grace in listening to the same story over again; perhaps you needed it, too?

Saturday afternoon, Husband calls from the backyard, "Sweetie, get the camera!"

At the door, ready to hand it out to him, I see him crouched by the lantana and blue mistflower, cupping something carefully in his hands.  Slowly he approaches me, and I see it is a large monarch butterfly.

My excitement over the photo op quickly morphed into sadness.  The lower edge of one wing was damaged, as if it had been gnawed.

She said, "Oh, no!  What can we do?  He's going to die like that, unable to get to the plants or evade the birds or go to Mexico with his friends!  This is awful!"

He said, "I think he's old and very weak.  The wing doesn't look too damaged for him to fly, so maybe he just needs food to recover his strength.  I'll put him in the flowers so he can eat, and maybe he'll be all right."

That he did.  So very gently, he set the butterfly in the purple-blue flowers, where like an infant suckling it immediately found the nectar.  Ebony was outside as well by this time, so I stayed and watched as the wounded insect crept around the flowers and ate, and the dog lowered his nose to the ground to smell what all the fuss was about.  The butterfly did look happier in the flowers, at least, if not stronger.

Storms soon broke here, and waves of rain and thunder and tornado warnings passed through.  I have not seen the butterfly today, but he's still in my thoughts.

As I asked the Lord what to make of this curious encounter, I remembered this:

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted

         And saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).

And this:

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

       he drew me out of deep waters.

  He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

       from my foes, who were too strong for me.

 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

       but the LORD was my support.

  He brought me out into a spacious place;

       he rescued me because he delighted in me (Psalm 18:16-19).

And this:

 "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:9-11).

Today, then, I give thanks for the nearness of God to those with broken wings,

for His grace to rescue and restore us,

for a husband who shows me God's gentleness,

for butterflies and sunrises,

for rain and protection in the storms,

and for a day when the groaning of Creation will be satisfied in freedom and redemption.

(Gratitude list 1501-1506)

May you know His nearness in your need and call today.

The LORD is near to all who call upon Him,

to all who call upon Him in truth.

He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him;

He will hear their cry and will save them.

Psalm 145:17-19, NASB

{Edited repost from October 2010}

Sharing in community with the folks at Ann's...

...and Emily's...

Memorial Day

Today the people of the United States remember, honor, and thank God for the many men and women, from the Revolutionary War to the present day, who have laid down their lives to establish, defend, and serve our nation (#300). As a citizen of heaven, I also thank the Father for the martyrs who have given their earthly lives in the service of God's kingdom (#301).

May the Lord provide for, comfort, and keep the military and missionary families who have survived such a loss. Please join me in prayer for them, for our country, and for our leaders in lieu of leaving a comment today.

Salute to Somo

Somo (2002?-May 27, 2008)

This week we've been talking more than usual about Somo*, Ebony's predecessor as prince of the sofa. Somo joined our family in a flurry of providential circumstances on Memorial Day weekend 2004, and he passed away the day after Memorial Day in 2008.

He's also been on our mind because he was terrified of storms, of which we've had several. If a thunderstorm came when he was home alone with his older brother Steinway, he would shred the carpet down to the linoleum beneath.  We tried gating him in the tiled bathroom, but in the absence of carpet he shredded any paper product within reach.  Consequently, one of us made sure to be home if storms were predicted.

If storms came through when we were home, he would pace and pant and climb up us and the furniture to get to higher ground. When this happened in the middle of the night, one of us would get up with him so the other one could sleep without a small dog standing on his face trying to scale the wall. The maternal bounce-and-walk comfort trick was of no avail.  Finally we discovered that leashing him so he could pace without doing himself harm worked pretty well.  I slept many nights in a sleeping bag on the floor with the leash in my hand and him pacing all around me.

Ordinarily, however, Somo was our rugged individualist. He rarely met a boundary he didn't cross, and he loved, loved, loved to dig, to the point we had to wonder whether some terrier was mixed in with his Lhasa Apso heritage. He dug to bury his wooly bone in the flower bed, and once he dug under the fence to play with the chihuahua next door.  He accomplished the latter feat so quickly that my first inkling was the neighbor knocking at the door holding a muddy dog as far away from herself as possible.

He was a smart dog, too. Once he crawled on his belly through the 6" space under our sofa to steal a bone literally from behind the back of his older brother. Steinway never did figure out where that bone went.

Somo and Steinway together

Besides thunderstorms, off-leash dogs were Somo's other nemeses.  We encountered a surprising number of these on our walks. On one occasion we were walking up a street across from the local elementary school.  As we passed one house, the homeowner opened her door to bring in the paper. Suddenly, her mastiff flew past her like a left tackle blitzing the quarterback. Except he was blitzing us. (Have I mentioned Somo was 19 pounds, tops, and I'm just over five feet tall? We were both in the wrong weight class for this fight.)

Never good at reacting quickly or well in a crisis, my only thought was to hold on to the leash because if we ran he'd chase us. And not to make eye contact. And surely the owner would restrain her dog any second. Poor Somo, however, decided he'd take his chances and run. He was smart enough that he probably recognized this particular dog would chase us even if we didn't flee.

So there we are:  me at the center of the merry-go-round, holding onto the leash for dear life with one hand and trying to reach Somo with the other hand; Somo running in circles around me trying to escape but limited to the radius of the leash; and this giant of a dog running in circles behind him and gaining ground. It was like living the folk story about Sambo, only this tiger was not turning into butter.

The situation was desperate when, at the same instant, the mastiff's owner grabbed his collar and Somo escaped his. I stood for a moment, taking in the empty red collar at the end of my leash, and then took off running in the direction Somo had gone.

Back and forth I went down all the streets nearby.  I waved down oncoming cars to ask if they'd seen a small white dog running for his life. When I could not walk any farther, I turned for home and called my husband to say I'd lost his dog but would head back out in the car to keep looking for him. By the time I finished explaining, I noticed a small white bundle on our doorstep.

Somo had already gone home.

A favorite nesting spot, Somo's last Christmas

Dear Crumbles, if midnight storms have you panicked, may you know in experience the truth that your Master is near to all who call upon Him (Psalm 145:18). When enemies too big to defeat are pursuing you and everything seems to spell disaster, may you find the grace and presence of mind to run home to your Father. He is big enough for whatever you face today. When memories and stories bubble up in your hearts, may you also find kind friends willing to listen or read what you have to share. I'm grateful for you.

*Swahili for confidant or intimate friend

Although I'm a few days late with this, life with my dogs has been a source of many, many "Playdates with God." You may read others' perspectives at Laura's place, The Wellspring.

At a Stoplight

Driver's eyes drift right,
Finding rest from brick and concrete
In the expanse of live oaks and manicured lawn
Speckled with tablets and statues
Of bronze, marble, granite.


Today the green is interrupted:
Six feet past the wrought-iron fence,
A sandy-haired man in glasses, beige plaid, and khaki
Stands, arm wrapped around a matching woman
In tunic and capris.
She holds one hand to her eyes.
The other wrist links to a taut red leash
And a dachshund the color of Irish breakfast tea.


Embarrassed by the dog's averted gaze,
Driver, too, looks away,
Silencing radio banter.
Red light and prayers blur together
Until the quick again rush past
The grieving and the dead.


Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15, NASB).


Until the risen Christ returns and all tears are wiped away, compassionate tears and prayers for our suffering brothers and sisters are also part of living as Easter people, of practicing resurrection.  My prayers join yours for the people of Oklahoma and Joplin, Missouri, not forgetting those in Alabama, in Japan, and in the persecuted church worldwide.  May the Lord strengthen the suffering and comfort those who mourn.


Considering in community what it means to live the Resurrection...


and seeking to write on redemption themes with the good folks at Emily's...

"Bittersweet" Grace

At my youngest sister's recommendation, I recently finished reading Shauna Niequist's memoir, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way. Her writing was funny and heartbreaking by turns and brutally honest throughout.  This book afforded a glimpse into a very different temperament and lifestyle and insights into shared struggles.

One passage I highlighted spoke directly to my orientation toward performance-based acceptance and the resulting insecurity that has intensified in this chronic illness flare with my increased limitations and dependence on others:

I don't like the idea that someone can judge me and that I have to depend on their grace.  I want to take that power out of their hands.  I hate to think about the fact that the people who love me show me grace for all my faults.  I prefer to believe instead that the math works:  that there are good things about me and hard things about me, but that they've checked the math and because I'm funny enough, they can let go of how terrible I look most days, or that if I'm interesting enough, the fact that my house is dirty isn't such a big deal.  But that kind of math is specifically anti-grace.  Grace isn't about netting out on the right side of things.

If arithmetic is numbers, and if algebra is numbers and letters, then grace is numbers, letters, sounds, and tears, feelings and dreams.  Grace is smashing the calculator, and using all the broken buttons and pieces to make a mosaic.

Grace isn't about having a second chance; grace is having so many chances that you could use them through all eternity and never come up empty.  It's when you finally realize that the other shoe isn't going to drop, ever.  It's the moment you feel as precious and handmade as every star, when you feel, finally, at home for the very first time.

Grace is when you finally stop keeping score and when you realize that God never was, that his game is a different one entirely (83, Kindle edition).

Looking back over the week, I'm remembering and thanking God for
325. God's grace, bigger than my understanding or even my need, and unchanging security in Him
326. Sharing book talk and reading memories with friends and family
327. Wearing my Tuesday Night Tangent Society tee and realizing it is actually Tuesday
328. Good memories of our 3 1/2 years with the TNTS Bible study youth and host parents
329. Joy watching God's unique plan for each of them unfold
330. Big Al responding quickly to medicine for what ailed him this week
331. Lots of rest and quiet reading time on his unexpected sick day
332. A week where nothing went as planned or expected, reminding me once again how not in control I am
333. God's control is better than mine
334. Helping lost dogs get home again
335. Talking to my grandmother on the phone... a happy place for me
336. Young nephew "Buzz" all right after a bad fall
337. Whataburger twice in one week (decadent, I know)

338. Cousin bringing her firstborn for lunch and a visit
339. Special Agent Hoover's delight in chasing Dr. Miao out of the yard not once, but twice

Finally caught on camera! Cocky or careless? Stay tuned...

340. Tea poured from my favorite pot, from the Lenox Butterfly Meadow set

341. Roses following A. home from work

342. Neighbors working together on a project
343. Sonic Happy Hour limeade date on a muggy Saturday afternoon
344. Some answered prayer for loved ones
345. 0.7" needed rain

Praising God with the community at Holy Experience...