The Voice He Hears (Part 19)

The warmth comforted his vexation. He stood within the stall until the water ran cold.

The day was a waste. He decided to move out to the back patio with the hope of grooming his anxieties with nature and fresh air. Mindfulness was a coping mechanism he’d learned about many years earlier. Stepping outside, inhaling simplicity–the smell of flowers nearby. The sounds from the birds pecking away at the feeder. All that just was. He sat in a rickety lawn chair at the edge of the patio with his bare feet positioned in the grass, eyes closed, purposely slowing his breathing. The sound of far-off knocking had him distracted from the rest for a short moment, but his focus was soon replenished. All that life–the natural, within those moments–offered him, quickly became the only thing that mattered. Just being was exactly what he needed. The transition of a noticeable drop in temperature when the clouds had covered the sun caused Mike to open his eyes. In his peripheral, he noticed a Monarch butterfly approaching, zigzagging its way towards the nearby flowers. Mike looked on as it nearly took a rest on a petal, but it left. It had decided to fly off to another place. Mike closed his eyes again, taking in deep breaths of the floral essence.

He felt a gentle disturbance near his resting hand. The butterfly had returned. It had taken the liberty of making Mike’s fingertip its rest stop.

He observed its exquisiteness. Flawless features. Unique patterns of yellow-orange, white, blacks and browns. It sat with perfect balance, poised. Mike studied it as the wings slowly lifted and descended.

The epiphany ensued. As Mike watched all that was true within the butterfly–it’s grace and beauty, the precise balance, the perfection of its symmetry, the lift and fall of wing, much like the fluctuation of his inner man, the rest it had taken–he realized, then and there, that God was true. God was in everything, and he knew what God was giving him all along.

The tears of joy had cooled in the breeze on his face, long after the butterfly had left, and shortly after bringing out his phone. He had pulled up John 1 in the King James version. He read, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…”




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