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Butterflies flitting through summer blooms have always mesmerized me.  I can spend hours watching them as the flutter about totally oblivious to the passing of time.  If one ponders the metamorphosis from the plain, even ugly, caterpillar into a creature of delicate and colorful beauty, the butterfly becomes even more amazing.  Butterflies are the perfect metaphor for life.  We are tooling through our days without much concern when suddenly we hit a bump–or even a crater!–and then we are forced into a cocoon of sorrow, pain, suffering, doubt, whatever the case may be, only to emerge having metamorphosed into a butterfly ourselves.  Romantic vision? Yes. But romance is not all bad.  In this case the butterfly is a symbol of hope, renewed life, delicate as it may be.  I’ve been through a few of those experiences in my lifetime, and only when I have emerged as a butterfly am I able to appreciate the journey that got me here.  I am grateful for butterflies!


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