stella

Wednesday August 18, 2010

I can’t believe I’m finishing off my last week of summer vacation; school begins again bright and early Monday morning! It’s been a pleasant month of incredible sights, tender experiences, and cherished companions, but I am excited to see my students and coworkers again! My first week back is definitely going to keep me busy though—I have a few hours of private English lessons after work on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings, then Thursday I have Language Club with my students (he he), and after work on Friday, I’m moving!

I would proudly announce the new location of my soon-to-be-home, but I’m still not sure where that will be. I have narrowed it down to two apartments, but haven’t made a final decision yet. Either way, my contract is up here at the Guesthouse on the 27th of this month, so I will be moving out here on Friday night and settling into my new place on Saturday! Then on Sunday, I am giving a talk in Sacrament Meeting and then teaching the Gospel Doctrine lesson in Sunday School—then it is back to work on Monday morning! Needless to say, I have a lot of lesson-planning to accomplish in the next several days! It’s a good thing I like to keep busy, huh? :-) I should probably start packing, too...

Anyway, there are a lot of emotions and thoughts stewing in my head and heart right now (my last journal entry was 35 pages...!), but I keep thinking of a particular experience that I want to share and I’m not even sure why. It was meaningful to me, but to be honest, I feel a little childish in sharing it. Ha ha oh well, I promised to offer my experiences openly, so you are!

Well, I was biking home like usual, when I decided to stop by a local supermarket to pick up some groceries. As I neared the store, I noticed a butterfly that had landed on my shoulder, but I’m not sure how long "she" had been there. (Non-gender-specific pronouns have always seemed so impersonal to me, so I deemed this little creature a she. lol) I began walking into the store but was afraid that she would get trapped inside, so I shrugged a bit in an attempt to gently coax her away, but she didn’t budge. I waited a few moments and decided to snap a picture of her. Even with the camera right next to her, she didn’t flinch, so I decided to walk into the store. I meandered through the aisles, checking my shoulder periodically, and sure enough, she stayed there the entire time.

Outside the store

I don’t know why it comforted me, but I smiled each time I looked down and saw this little butterfly perched peacefully on my sleeve. I decided to call her Stella. :-) I purchased my groceries, walked outside the store, and hopped back on my bike, certain that she would flutter away once I began moving and bumping along the road to get back home. Much to my surprise, I pulled up to my apartment and there she was, still resting on my shoulder, it almost as though she had been guiding me home. Once I arrived back at my building, my friend approached me and it wasn’t until he did so that she finally flew off.

I have never seen a butterfly behave that way—it was the strangest thing—but there was something so serenely delicate about it somehow. To look down and see something so small and fragile so close to me, completely unthreatened by me, almost as though this tiny creature was protecting me somehow...it was beautiful.

Anyway, that’s a really random experience, but it just impressed me and made me aware all over again about the precious daily miracles that surround all of us. I have often been teased that I am like a butterfly in a meadow, constantly "fluttering around to see all the different flowers everywhere," but I guess I’m ok with being that way. I know I want to see everything and experience everything, but how could I not when there is so much beauty and mystery around me? Sometimes I wonder if we are ever really aware of how blessed we are to be alive. Do we ever really understand the gift of every, every moment? I suppose it’s due in part to recent tendernesses that have surrounded me—whether in the form of paper cranes or butterfly wings, but I hope to pay more attention to the fragile things...the delicate miracles...because they truly are remarkable.