An astronomical number of animals, insects, and sea creatures have vanished from the earth over various eons. Some disappeared because of human actions and I grieve their loss. Martha, the last of passenger pigeons whose flocks darkened the skies as they flew over died alone in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914. Then it is presumed that an asteroid hit the earth, changed the climate and wiped out dinosaurs. Do you lie awake a night wishing for a mastadon in your back yard? Seeing a dodo would be interesting, but I may have had trouble finding a golden toad even if one still inhabited its special environment.
Yet, I am doing my part in preserving butterflies, mostly monarchs. Two days this week, hope of spring came to my front yard as the dipping orange and black hillexes moved from one early cone flower to another. They are at the moving north stage and just seeking nourishment. An article in the paper says that their number is 22% less than last year. The cycle has always included wintering on seven acres of trees in Mexico. The number of acres this year was 5.5. Not only have I seen pictures of the laden orange trees with row after row of folded wings lining a branch, we had one group choose to overnight on a bush in our neighbor’s yard at another Swift address. Three children and I sat is silence as one by one they settled in for the night.
About thirty years ago, hatch and release became my passion. I learned to plant milkweed, their plant of choice to sip some nectar and later deposit their eggs. I would lift leaves carefully to find one small milky dot that would evolve into a tiny black/white/yellow striped larva or caterpillar that grew as the leaves that housed it diminished in its small arc-shaped nibbles. I gathered and kept in a pet box and could watch them grow dark and change into a pupa to finish the transformation. When I could almost see through the transparent shell the time was neigh for a new butterfly. Some of you adults were at the ranch for Thanksgiving when I brought a box to watch them emerge, dry, and then walk onto your outstretched finger to be released outside. The facial response of the releasers is breathtaking from kindergartens who whisper, “I won’t hurt you,” to jaded sixth graders who want it to be their turn next to adults who have never thought of the life process.
In my church’s welcome center is a large banner various women needle pointed with noted Christian symbols. I did the butterfly, a symbol of resurrection. “Just when the caterpillar thought life was over, it became a butterfly.” Many changes come along the way and one final awaits.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here.
2 Corinthians 5:17
Let Me Tell Ya 