Butterflies in September Gardens

“On colored wing no bigger than a scrap of fabric the butterfly brings beauty and wonder to the earth.”
c e hollis

In the garden I find fragile butterflies with torn, summer–worn wings. They are busy as ever. I see them in the shrubbery, in the trees around the house, in the dry and dying garden, and in the pasture grasses.

Butterflies are a symbol of hope for many people. I find them particular treasures as tiny colorful scraps of life. God made them to intrigue and fascinate me, I’m sure.

They flit and flutter from flower to flower and do their part in the pollinating. What other parts they play in the grand scheme of things I don’t know, but I am certain God had a great purpose for their creation.

So many things men thinks he knows, but we don’t know how a bumblebee can bumble, how Monarchs fly to forests in South America to winter, how hummingbirds survive cold nights, how scissortail flycatchers balance on wires. We don’t know why bananas are yellow, why cats purr, where birds hide from freezing snow and ice. We know so much and still such a tiny bit of the knowledge of God.

God made the earth by wisdom and understanding. He hung it on nothing. He framed the universe, created the planets and stars, set the world in motion by knowledge. In other words He knew how.

If there was a man who could design and make even a simple cell, if he could make a rose or any simple thing like a butterfly’s wing, he would be considered an amazing fellow. Man can make nothing. God has the knowledge though. How wonderful will be the time when I am with Him in heaven someday, learning from Him, watching Him, listening to Him.