Butterflies of Love

Dear Editor,

When I was a child I collected butterflies. They were so beautiful as they flitted among the flowers. They tended to visit a flower for a few seconds and then they floated here and they until they flew over the garden fence and beyond the trees, disappearing into the sky.

I stealthily approached the creatures of my fascination and when one lighted on a flower near me I caught it and made it mine. I killed them and spread out their velvet wings so I could admire their symmetry and vibrant colors of each species I was able to capture.

I put each one in a wax paper rectangular wrapping and attached them to a page in a scrapbook that I used solely for my butterfly collection. I put multiples of each kind on the same page to divide them into categories in my book.

But as time went on, I noticed some of the velvet colors rubbed off of the butterflies on the pages of my collection, revealing the naked wings underneath. Some of the wings became detached from the bodies of the lifeless butterflies.

I began to be sad and felt my desire to possess the creatures of my fascination had taken all the magic and wonder out of observing them in their natural environment. My desire to own them killed the joy and the freedom God intended for them to have.

So, from then on, I just watched the beautiful and elusive creatures as they moved among the flowers in my mother's lovely garden. Sometimes they would light on me and we shared a beautiful moment and then I blessed them as they returned to the serendipity of the garden.

It occurs to me that I have gone through the same metamorphosis in my relationships with friends. In my school years I remember that everyone seemed to be searching for a "best friend" and that we were quite possessive of our duality status.

Sometimes we had clothes alike or exchanged friendship rings. Back then, I expected to have many of my needs met by this exclusive relationship. Two was company and three was a crowd.

May years have elapsed since then and may friends have come in and out of my door.

But now I know the special people in my life don't belong to me. I just have them to love for a short time because the really belong to God.

Possessing people can stifle their spontaneity and creativity and restrict them from a greater participating in life. Nobody wants to be codependent.

Our encounters with friends are a great deal like the butterfly story. When we really love someone, we want them to have the freedom to roam the garden. When we begin to see this, we will feel the wind beneath our own wings and we will soar through the open door to freedom to be with God.

Our friends are the jewels of our lives and much of the meaning we have in life comes from them.

But we must learn to kiss them as they fly.

Janine Hall,

McCook, Neb.

Excerpted from her book "Knowing That He Will."