A butterfly does not belong in the mud. It doesn’t need to slam itself against a false sun with the rest of the moths. Dark alleys and penumbra, dim bulbs that cast no life… Butterflies must not fight the moths for that light.
Butterflies belong in the fields, in the vast expanses of land, under a sun that shines rays, life-giving rays, onto colorful flowers. The petals, the nectar, the scents… They are all special and exclusive for each butterfly.
There is abundance on the grasses where the flowers bloom. In the light, in the open there is nothing between the butterfly and the heavenly Father. That is where the butterfly belongs. With wings expanded, each flutter is a prayer, each flower, a gift from God.
Thank you, Lord!