A Butterfly On My Shoulder

By Richard Bauman

I am grateful butterflies don't sting, buzz or do other annoying things. If they did I probably would have missed one of those tiny, gentle, moments God sprinkles into our lives that give us insight, or renews our spirit.

It happened several years ago when I was taking my daily walk. I use my walk time not just for exercise, but also as time to talk to God.

On the day of the butterfly, I was agitated about my health. I was complaining to God about my struggle with obesity and sleep apnea. Serenity wasn’t my walking partner. Then, after walking about a mile, I started for home.

I glimpsed something white on my right shoulder. I sensed it even before I saw it. One of those instances when you think you see something from the corner of your eye, doubt it, only to be surprised when you look you and something is there.

When I turned my head to look, there was a white-winged butterfly on my shoulder. Its wings had a smattering of tiny black specks. Its body, head and antennae were shinny black.

I was amazed to find it there, and thought it would soon fly away as silently as it had arrived. But it didn't. It sat on my shoulder slowly moving its wings.

The butterfly fascinated me. Where had it come from, and why had it landed on me? I had walked that route many times and the few butterflies I had seen never came close to me. But this one was different, and I didn't want it to leave.

It didn't. It seemed content on my shoulder—as if it belonged there. Perhaps it needed to rest its wings. Perhaps it needed to relieve its weariness. It was as if it had been flying a long time, and was a bit depleted. It was an opportunity for it to take a breather.

The butterfly rode on my shoulder for about 15-minutes. When I got home, I had to share the strange event with my wife, Donna. I wanted her to see my traveling companion.

The butterfly couldn't stay on my shoulder indefinitely. It was time for her to fly on. Standing in our front yard, I lifted my left hand to my right shoulder, where the butterfly rested, and gently brushed under her head, nudging her to flight.

She danced into the air as butterflies do. She flew a zig-zag course around the yard for a minute, as if getting her bearings on some destination known only to her. She propelled herself higher than the trees, fluttering over them—and she was gone.

Having the butterfly on my shoulder was strange, yet pleasant. My black mood about health issues was gone, thanks to that butterfly. It needed to rest and I needed the spark of joy it brought me. Riding on my shoulder it was revitalized, and oddly, so was I.

In those few moments God blessed, and helped, two of his creatures.

Richard Bauman writes from West Covina, California. richardb1207@dslextreme.com