Butterfly House

This place is called Butterfly house because I collect worms off the milkweed in June that turn into butterflies after a few weeks. Plus there are two wooden monarchs on the side of my house, left there by the previous residents.

I take a nice summer walk through the woods and fields every day to pick the milkweed on which the worms feed. They make wonderful pets, no slobbering like a dog, and no loosing hair like cats, kind of quiet and still, but very affectionate. They will rest on your arm or anywhere you put them until they say goodbye and are ready to fly off. Their children will come back to say hi in the following years.

They speak volumes in their silence, just seeing them transform form worm to butterfly is amazing to watch. They remind me of our second birth (John 3), and how we have to die to ourselves to live forever (Romens 6). I have much to learn from them, this speaking without words. Kind of like my cousin Josiah, died Nov. ’02, every time I think of being a good example I think of how he was always there for people and yet so humble. Quietly doing good deeds without being flashy about it, and now he is more beautiful than any butterfly could possibly be. Here is the poem I was inspired to write a few days after he went to be with the Lord.

Doing Dishes

Here I am doing dishes all over again--
A mother of one with really big plans
Of helping others, doing much for God,
Working His vineyard, turning the sod,
Planting His Word in some foreign land,
But here I stand, a cup in my hand
It does nothing special; it’s really quite plain,
It sits on my shelf, no face and no name--
There when I need it, shiny and clean
Ready for service, as I should be.

As I return the cup to the shelf
I surely feel ashamed of myself
Should The Master be looking for a vessel to choose
Would He find me clean, ready to use?
Do I serve Him humbly in every way?
When He opens the cupboard everyday
Have I got love for a heart that hungers,
Encouragement for one that thirsts?
I don’t have to be special or do something great,
Just stand on His shelf and on Him wait.

Yes, here I am, cleaning out the sink,
It’s not much, but I believe
Doing this small little task for my King,
Makes it a great, even a holy thing.
-Nelda Baer