Butterfly.

I walked out on the patio today and there was a big, beautiful butterfly laying in the little plastic pool, floating, in circles. At first I thought maybe it was a plastic toy, it was so big and bright. But when I moved the cup it's little head was laying on, it's legs started moving frantically.
Shit. I hate to see things die, suffer. Especially something so beautiful.
Yesterday I tried to save a little ugly moth by taking him out of the pool and this morning, after I saw the butterfly I looked where I had laid the moth, to see if maybe the butterfly would make it if I took her out, and there the moth was, stuck to the pavement, almost back to dust. Fried.
I had to try to save her, regardless. I scooped her out carefully with Ethan's blue plastic shovel and laid her on the pavement, in the shade so, maybe, she could dry out. I had my doubts.
She was trying desperately to get away, erratically flapping her one wing that must not have been quite as wet. Her little body was soft and fuzzy, her legs long and delicate. Her yellow and black wings stood out on my patio like a flower. Her movements kept getting fewer and farther between. Then she got quiet and just laid there, like she was waiting to die.
I couldn't bear to watch her.
I've been thinking a lot lately of healing, of new life. I read recently a book called Hope for the Flowers, a sweet little book about caterpillars looking for new life, of surrendering to a Love that transforms them into beautiful butterflies.
As I watched this butterfly flutter desperately, hopelessly, on the pavement, I told God, "You jerk. What about this one, huh? What about this butterfly? You are just gonna let her die. She'll be fried and then I will have to explain to Ethan about death and I will have to scrape her off my patio."
I blew air out of my cheeks, the way I do, the way my mother does, and walked up the stairs to sit with Joey and read.
I told Joey about the butterfly, about how beautiful it was and how she was a gonner. Then I forgot about her.
One my way back down, half an hour later, I remembered her.
I looked where I had laid her, and she was gone. I looked around the pool, no butterfly anywhere.
So then I came inside and wrote this, because I don't want to experience God's touch in my life, and then walk away and forget.