I took a walk in my woods this morning.
The sky was gray. . . .
But then a bit of color caught my eye.
It was a butterfly. . . .
I wondered if it was dead,
so I touched it lightly
and its wings folded up!
Then I remembered --
Butterflies can't fly if they're cold.
Here I was outside enjoying the cooler weather
While this poor creature was at the mercy of its predators.
So I scooped it up and moved it to safety, only then noticing its tattered wings. . . .
Lord, I feel like this butteryfly some days....exposed, my mood gray and my heart tattered. But I can rejoice....
For You have been my help,
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
— Psalm 63:7