Butterfly Kisses – Songs of Hope

I saw a butterfly flutter by my window this morning. I chased it with my gaze, hope rising within me like a spring of new beginnings. As it settled to the ground, I saw that it was in fact a dried leaf that had been buffeted by the wind. A dead thing for a moment looking very much alive. In that brief moment though, that butterfly hope sparkled within me, like a glimmer of sunshine to my heart. And I cupped it lightly in my mind so as not to crush its wings.

Just last week our little corner of the world was covered in thick snow, enveloping everything in soft purity. A sound-proof glitter blanket, absorbing all but the quiet crunch of footsteps on its path. It looked utterly beautiful. Clean and crisp. A blank canvas, somehow offering a degree of quiet, calm certainty to life.

The opening of this year brought with it a promise of fresh, bright beginnings, but quickly this seemed to turn instead to a metaphorical messy slush. Dark shadows threatened to mar the calendar’s new offering as several unforeseen challenges spiked up like sharp icy blades. I felt my world slide once again and have stretched out reaching for that rope of hope to steady myself – simultaneously re-examining what this sometimes slippery word ‘hope’ means to me.

The Bible links hope with peace, joy, security, strength, patient assurance and trust – trust in a God who holds all things together, who loves us and who covers us.

In my own experience, narrowed hope in the outworking of something in a certain way can sometimes feel fragile and flawed – fuelled by the illusion that I am in control, when in fact there is very little that I can control in the grand scheme of life.

Short-sighted hope can feel delicate and desperate especially when that hope is based on what I think I know is best. Our own limiting beliefs can be a prison we sometimes unknowingly back ourselves into when we feel powerless yet wanting solutions and answers. The problem is, it can separate us from accessing a larger, more robust, living hope.

For me, expansive hope feels much deeper and is more outcome independent, at least in terms of aspirations for living life in this broken world.

Sarah Blondin’s sentiment offers this wisdom;

‘We gently release everything we think is absolute and we slow down to encounter the mystery.’

And so, this mystery? It is where true, spiritual hope resides.

For me, true hope is trusting and believing in a deep and timeless loving God who is with us through all the ups and downs and in-betweens of life. As I literally re-mind myself of this, I feel my mind and body’s tension shift – unfolding – relaxing in the invitation to re-member and re-trust in this mystery, in the giver and sustainer of life. To welcome gentle acceptance, receptivity and rest in the here and now and to open to all the wondrous possibilities of times held by a wise God who loves us all deeply. A devoted Father to whom we belong.

And so, that longing to be in control transmutes to a restful belonging to the One who is in control and who can work miracles. What a wonder! What a burden lightened.

How many times have I had the felt-experience of this belonging – His safe holding and love? Too many to count. And yet I am easily forgetful when fresh storms hit and I feel like the ground is shifting beneath me. Then I remember once again that my hope need not lie in my own strength, solutions and strategies but in my relationship with the One who promises to be there holding me – holding us – tender, strong, steadfast and certain – through it all. And I am thankful.

“The LORD your God is with you… He will take great delight in you; in his love he will rejoice over you with singing.” *

And how often my gaze is graciously lifted up once again, as I see butterflies of hope – evidence of His love – kiss my cheeks and those of whom I love, through the gentle kindness, care and compassion of others.

‘ To love someone is to learn the song that is in their heart and sing it to them when they have forgotten’ **

*Zephaniah – An Old Testament Promise

**quote by Norwegian writer – Arne Garborg.

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