in the darkness of his hand

In the Darkness of His Hand

Spring, 1999

Today, while I was walking out of school, I saw a butterfly trapped in the building.  It was trying to escape by beating itself against a closed window.  Feeling sorry for the little guy, I decided to carry it to freedom.  As I took the butterfly in my hands, I felt pain for it.   I knew it was scared.  It couldn’t understand what I was doing.  But, once I got outside the building and let it go, it floated happily away.

Sometimes, I feel like that butterfly.  Beating myself against a closed window, I try in vain to find my way to freedom.  Then, a hand encloses me and carries me off.  Does the One who holds me in His hand feel pain for me, knowing that I don’t really understand what He’s doing; that I’m scared and confused in the darkness of His hand?  Does He feel for me even though his plan means the difference between life and death?

I’m sure that butterfly wasn’t asking for a trip outside that day.  But I also know that if I hadn’t carried it off, it would have been lying dead in the windowsill the next morning.  I also know that, were God to ask me, I would choose a different path to freedom.  

Tonight, when I went to unload my car, the exact same type of butterfly was sitting on my hood.  I just stared in silent disbelief.   In that moment I knew that it was trying to tell me something.  But whether it was saying, “Thank you,” or telling me that freedom is worth the price you pay to get to it, I don’t know.  Maybe it was saying both.