I sat on the porch remembering how my son Lee used to hold my hand on walks, snuggle with me while we read books together, and even exchange secret winks in the hallway when I was a substitute teacher at his school.
Tomorrow would be the anniversary of his sudden death, at nine years old. My husband and I saved keepsakes from Lee around the house to keep him close, but at times like these mementos were nothing compared to feeling like he was really here with me.
God, I need to know my bond with Lee is still strong even though he is in heaven.
A flicker of motion near a pot of petunias caught my eye. A tiny, pale blue butterfly, no bigger than my thumbnail moved from bloom to bloom. Strange, I thought. I’ve never seen a butterfly like that before.
I watched as the creature fluttered over to me. I extended my index finger. The butterfly landed on it! The butterfly flitted away, only to return to my fingertip again and again, as if playing a game. Finally my winged friend flew up to the bridge of my nose and rested there.
I held still, hoping to prolong the magic of being eye to eye with a butterfly! Seconds later the creature flew away, never to be seen again.
What had just happened? I sat dazed for several minutes before heading inside. On the refrigerator, among many family photos, I noticed a faded paper butterfly. Lee had given it to me one Mother’s Day. Tears flowed from my eyes as I read the words written there: “Butterfly, go to my mother and whisper that I love her.”
Now I understood. God had answered my prayer with a beautiful message delivered on the wings of one of his most heavenly creatures.
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