Broken Wings

Part of a butterfly's magic is its delicate beauty.  They entice us with their vibrant colours, they amaze us with their effortless flight, but butterflies are fragile.  They are easily bruised by eager hands, broken underneath a careless foot.  So too is life. Fragile.  Yet we take life so for granted, playing with time as a child with a little treasured toy.  Every breath we take is a miracle, Divine grace.  Last night two elderly, dear friends were attacked in their house, and it was there in their house, amidst the tales of anguish, the blood, the police and the concerned friends that I had this reality check.  Life can change in an instant.  In one moment its beauty can be destroyed, dreams and plans shattered, wings broken.  Oh, it would be so easy to give in to the fear that wants to grip us in such times of distress, after all, we have proof that we have good reason to be afraid, and everyone in that kitchen felt it, but larger than the fear in that kitchen, was the overpowering emotion of gratefulness.  Gratefulness that life, that fragile gift, was still preserved.  We still have another chance to say 'I love you', one more time to squeeze a hand, another moment to enjoy for all that moment has to give.  In those terrifying moments, when she faced the intruder wielding his knife, the question that flashed through her mind was not, 'Where is God?', no it was 'How did I live my last day? What have I done with my last hours?  Did it glorify the Lord?'.  What an excellent question to ponder. A butterfly's lifespan is short, but in those precious hours it does exactly what God ordained it to do.  It spreads its beauty all around and passes on the gift of life.  A butterfly lives every moment with joy and abandonment.