Prior to a couple of weeks ago, I don’t think I would have ever considered that a butterfly could express gratitude. I’ve always marveled at these tiny, little, beautiful creatures. They hatch, go into metamorphosis to become an adult, emerge subtly, yet magnificently only to make a 1500-3000 mile migration to warmer climates (that they’ve never been to before) to find a mate. And then? They die. The entire life cycle of a monarch takes up to 9 months. Incredible, right?
With all of those things considered, I would have ever considered that a tiny, little creature could have such a big impact on my kids and our family.
Over Christmas break my daughter and I went for a walk each morning. This particular day she chose to walk with me and help push her younger sister in the stroller rather than riding her bike. It was probably about 40 degrees which, I know, I know.. isn’t insanely cold.. but this is Texas y’all. We don’t own a lot of warm clothes.. we completely forget how to drive and we don’t have the right tools to deal with colder weather. I can’t count the number of times I’ve scraped ice off my windshield with the edge of a CD case! Nevertheless, there we were with an itch to get out of the house, regardless of the temperature outside.
My daughter and I had just rounded a corner in our subdivision and headed down a little hill. The warmth of the sun was barely breaking through the crisp air. It felt so nice. That’s when we saw him. Backlit by the sun, we noticed a large monarch butterfly struggling to stay in the air. We could tell he was trying his hardest to get the lift and momentum he needed, but with every effort he would rise and then fall only to catch himself within a couple of feet of crashing to the pavement. Then, in one last effort we watched as this magnificent little creature flittered upwards and then crashed to the pavement. My daughter gasped.
We ran over to him, wondering if his wings had been damaged or if his little body had been broken in some way because of his fall. I managed to cup my hands over him as he fluttered helplessly on the ground to try and assess the damage.
My creature loving daughter, who also possesses an extensive library of knowledge of Disney fairies looked at me in all seriousness and expressed, “Mom, there’s no cure for a broken wing. That’s what Queen Clarion told Tinkerbell. We need to pray for a miracle.”
Prayers were offered and we both leaned in as I slowly opened my hands just a little to see if we could inspect his wings. To our surprise they seemed ok. There was a little notch in one of them, but nothing that would prevent him from flying. My daughter breathed out a sigh of relief but then asked, “Mom, why couldn’t he fly.” I have pretended to be an expert at many things during my short career of being a mom, but being a butterfly expert was not on my resume. I honestly didn’t know. He could be sick, old, or 5 million other things. It was about that time that I remembered the chill in the air and it dawned on me. He was a cold-blooded creature, the temperature was too cold for him and he was freezing.
I carefully cupped him in my hands and lifted him off the concrete. We hatched our plan on as we hurried our way home to get our little friend warm, fed and back on his way. We figured a little rest, warmth and food would give him the best chance at making it to his destination.
When we got home we made a make-shift butterfly cage with a mesh laundry hamper and filled it with fresh flowers still been lingering on the bushes in the front yard and added a few sticks and leaves. My girls carefully mixed a concoction of water and honey in proper proportions, poured it into a lid from a gallon of milk and placed it at the bottom of his cage. We watched closely as he fluttered around nervously, clearly trying to make sense of his new surroundings. One of my girls pointed out that if he would just settle down to take a sip of honey water, then surely he would know that he was safe, and we were trying to help him. I made a small opening in the top of the cage and put my finger out to lower him down to where his food was. He sat at the edge of the milk lid for a second, assessing the quality of the meal and then placed his long sucking tube called a proboscis into the honey water and drank. He immediately settled down, slowly lifted his wings up and down, and drinking and drinking and drinking.
We watched the weather closely over the next couple of days. It was a little bit warmer the next day, and a little more the next. We’d done a little bit of research and found out that it needed to stay above 55 degrees for monarchs to fly. I can’t say that I’ve ever been thankful for a warm Christmas but we were grateful to find out that Texas would be experiencing record breaking heat that week providing a window of time to get the monarch (affectionately named “Jacky” at this point) on his way.
Day three was the day. I’d stepped out in the morning air to head out for our walk and noticed that it was really warm outside for that early in the morning. I quickly stepped back inside the house and let the girls know it was time to set Jacky free. We grabbed his cage and of course, I grabbed my phone to document his escape.
In my mind I pictured us opening the cage and him busting out of prison and headed for the skies. I really didn’t think it would go any differently. Why would it?
My oldest daughter reached her hand in, placing her finger in front of him. He crawled onto her finger and just stayed, slowly lifting and raising his wings almost testing them to see if they were ok.
I offered him one last sip of water and the girls offered him lots of encouraging words and advice. Jacky was ready to hit the skies.
Then, in almost a split second, he took off. He flew higher and higher. We thought for sure that this was it and he’d be gone.
But then..
he came back.
He swirled around our heads, dancing circles as he moved from one person to the next. Then he’d fly away for a second and come back and fly more circles around us. Finally, he flew away.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
We’ve talked a lot about that experience over the past couple of weeks. Recently we’ve been studying about the Creation from the book of Genesis, Moses and Abraham for Come Follow Me. We learn that God calls the things he created, “good” and that his creations are evidence of His love for us. In the Doctrine and Covenants (D&C 59:18–19) it tells us, “Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart; yea, for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul.” I asked my girls, “Why do you think Jacky stuck around and danced around you? He could have easily just flown away. I mean, it’s what we’d expect from a little insect.”
My oldest said, “Mom, we really took care of him. He was so thirsty and tired and trying so hard to fly. He probably would have died. He couldn’t write us a thank you card, so his way of showing gratitude was doing something that would make us happy.”
Right then and there we decided that if a tiny little butterfly was capable of demonstrating what could only be interpreted as gratitude, then we, who are made in the likeness of our Heavenly Father, the creator of all things have no excuse not to do the same. “Gratitude is the gateway to joy (1).” Who knew that one of the tiniest of all God’s creations could teach us such a profound lesson.