I had a phone conversation with my brother Kurt on September 4, 2020, and our conversation turned to politics.

Kurt and I were on opposite sides of the political spectrum. Our discussion that day was about sharing of “I believe this because.” Ironically, though, right at the moment I was triggered by something Kurt said, our call dropped. I tried to call him back, and he tried to call me, but we could not reconnect. He sent me a text that said, “Next time, sis, let’s talk about guitars!” But we never did get to have that talk. Kurt had a heart attack on September 21st and died a few days later. Though we shared texts, our last conversation was about politics, and that makes me feel terrible.

When Kurt died, my trigger broke. I became immune to being hooked by the news or politics. Those things lost their hold on my heart. I wish our last conversation had been about music because music is something precious we share. When I think about it now, I feel silly about how much weight I once gave to what politicians, celebrities, or the media said/did; those things don’t matter. Is it possible to develop immunity from being triggered in a world where we are fed a constant stream of stories of people suffering, fearful, or being ugly to one another? All that ugliness once had my attention and ate away at my soul. But I can choose to refocus my thoughts on my family and disengage with the ugliness.

Kurt’s death helped break my trigger, but I needed more help. I wanted to find a daily devotional and found one on the Catholic Company website, based on the visions of Saint Hildegard of Bingen, titled Let There Be Light. Reading this book inspired me to start writing again. This passage from pages 22-23 touched me deeply.

Kurt’s clay sculpture is complete, and he is home with God.

But I am still here—one of the lost sheep Hildegard mentioned, trying to turn my focus each day onto “the impervious goodness of the Lord.” I see Hildegard’s symbolism of pearls as wisdom and precious stones as love. I believe that we take our love and wisdom home to God when we go. So, for the time being, I’ll do my best to gather all the precious stones and pearls I can.

Several years ago, my son was facing a brutal personal challenge, and I didn’t know what to do. The options for ways I could assist him were swirling in my mind, but honestly, I didn’t know what the “right” thing to do was.

So, I went into contemplation to ask for guidance, and Mother Mary came in. I clearly heard the most profound thing:

“If I can witness my son bear his cross, so can you.”

Wow! Now, that was quite a thought! And as I considered the idea of witnessing the cross more deeply, it became clearer to me. I looked back at the story of Jesus. I didn’t see much about Mary there. I had images from Hollywood movies, and that really wasn’t it. It became more significant as I imagined Mary and what she was teaching through her example about being a mother.

I considered Mary’s examples:

• She was there.
  

• She stood by.
  

• She didn’t pick up the cross and carry it for her son. That was for Jesus to do, and she respected this.
  

• She didn’t intervene — there is no written record of Mary going to Pontius Pilate and asking him to reconsider his verdict or sentence.
  

• Mary didn’t mettle.
  

• She did not rescue.
  

• She was simply there, present, loving, standing by.

This contemplation about Mary gave me such enormous comfort that day. It was huge, especially once I understood the mess was my son’s cross. I felt at peace and could be present with my son throughout his challenge. Only when asked did I offer advice. I did not scold. I listened. I was present. And he took care of the clean-up on his own.

Recently, I heard of a man who came upon a butterfly struggling to emerge from her cocoon. With earnest intentions, this man cut the cocoon open to free the butterfly so it would have an easier time emerging. Inevitably, though, the butterfly died. Why? It was too soon to fly, and the butterfly needed the struggle to strengthen her wings. She needed to find her way out of the cocoon in her own time and complete the metamorphosis when she was ready.

That is how it works for us, too; when we struggle, we get stronger. That is part of the plan. Struggles are simply crosses that offer us ways to learn, experience, get stronger, and grow. Everyone has their very own cross in life.

Once, I worked on a book about dogs and why we love them so much. One of the reasons is that when we are hurting, they know. They don’t bark solutions. Dogs sit with us, love us, and comfort us. We cry, and dogs don’t complain or tell us what to do or to be quiet. The example of a dog’s love shows us precisely what it is like to use Mary’s example and sit with someone while witnessing them with their own “cross.”

If you wish, contemplate the examples here from Mary, butterflies, and our beloved dogs. Each is an excellent model for our relationships. I will continue to explore Mary’s teachings on motherhood. Be present. Stand by. Comfort. Offer love. Be compassionate. I hope it helps you as much as it did me.

My mother-in-law Jane grew butterflies. Yes, it’s true she actually tended and grew butterflies! The Black Swallowtail that has hints of blue on its wings was her favorite.

Swallowtails lay their eggs on parsley, so each year, Jane planted a pot filled with parsley in her backyard to attract these beautiful creatures. This activity became a family tradition.

Jane and the grandchildren checked the parsley for little white dots (eggs), and when they found a dot, they carefully tore off the parsley sprig. The sprig was gently transferred to a fishbowl lined with flat, rounded-edge marbles, and Jane inserted a wooden stick. She and the grandkids put a piece of thin netting on the top of the bowl and secured it with a rubber band around the lip. Jane said that the flat marbles were important because the butterfly’s wings were very delicate, and when they emerged, part of the process was to sit on the marbles at the bottom of the bowl and flap until their wings dried. The rounded, flat marbles protected their wings from being damaged.

The kids waited for the magic to happen! But they did not have to wait long for a small caterpillar to emerge from those eggs. Those caterpillars hatched into a wonderful, safe place with lots of yummy parsley to feast upon and the netting also kept them safe from predators. The grandkids loved checking on a caterpillar’s progress and got so excited when the caterpillars climbed the stick, went still, and started to form a chrysalis. The kids were fascinated. They wanted to return to grandmother’s house as often as possible to see the butterflies emerge.

It was rare that the grandkids witnessed the great miracle of nature when the butterflies emerged from the cocoon. Still, Grandmother would keep the butterflies safe in the bowl after they emerged and until the kids arrived to see these beauties. Then, in almost a ceremony, as a family, they went into the yard to set the butterflies free, cheering as they took flight.

One year, one of the butterflies did not emerge from its cocoon. Grandmother kept that fishbowl intact. When the kids asked if they could cut the butterfly free, she said no, “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, then New Year’s, then Valentine’s Day…the cocoon looked healthy but was dormant, so Jane left it on the table. Just before Easter that year, something magical happened…the cocoon started to come alive and change colors. Soon, a beautiful butterfly emerged. We were all amazed that it lasted through the winter! This was the season’s first butterfly, and that memory is so special that even though many years have passed since she took flight, none of us have ever forgotten her story.

All things and all creatures on earth are connected to God, and God knows the right time for us to bloom.  

Since this time with Jane, I learned that her instinct not to cut the butterfly free was the right thing to do. Why? If you cut a butterfly free too soon from its cocoon, it will die. The butterfly is meant to experience the benefits it gains from the struggle of emerging—it needs to go through a full process. Through that struggle, its wings become strong enough to handle the winds.

I know that sometimes in my life, I have wished for someone or something to cut me free from my own struggles. I have begun to realize that no one can, could, or should cut me free. There have been times when I have watched my loved ones struggle, and I wanted to help them. But now, through this lesson from a butterfly, I realize the beautiful power of struggle, which is simply meant to strengthen us.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans, 12:2 NIV

That dream came true. For a few years we lived in Naples, Florida. At that time my children were young, both under the age of eight. My memories of going to the beach with the kids are happy memories.

The kids and I also visited the library and found special guidebooks so that we could learn to identify and memorize the names of all the shells and other creatures that we found at the beach. When the kids and I went to the beach, I felt as if any troubles, distractions, arguments, and worries vanished. The beach was my special sanctuary…my soul-soothing place of refuge!

Our favorite time to go shelling was low tide. When the tide is low you have a much better opportunity to find sand dollars or rare seashells. One day at low tide, my son found a crucifix fishbone that I still have and treasure.

The ocean gives us many spiritual metaphors; for example, the sea catfish and the sand dollar have legends associated with them that point toward Christ. Tides are also intriguing symbolically. When the tide turns, it reverses direction—the energy is either contracting or expanding. The universe is contracting and expanding. When we breathe, we expand and contract. Our heartbeat is both an expansion and contraction.

All of life—the ocean included—is constantly expanding and contracting.

When is the turn of the tide? I can say with 100% certainty that the world changes every morning when we arise. It changes to some degree each and every day—good things, bad things, and things that make no difference happen.

Emperors, pharaohs, religious leaders, and kings and queens have ruled and told the people how to be and what to believe in. It still happens. However, those decision-makers have grown to include elected officials, corporate leaders, the new media, celebrities, and social media influencers. It used to be that you had to have the birthright or lineage to become an influencer, but now these leaders form the opinions of millions of people in a heartbeat.

The ability to share one’s opinions globally has launched us into a terrible place where most of what we read makes us angry. We seem to have lost touch with the ability to discuss our different opinions and viewpoints respectfully. I am ready for the tide to turn and to stop listening to those who wish to upset or create unnecessary fear. I am ready to regain my ability to experience heaven on earth, which I believe is best experienced when we regain our joy and appreciation for the beautiful gift of life given to us by God.

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:3 NIV

When my grandchildren ventured out into the field, I snapped these priceless photos of them. To me, their gentle facial expressions are visual evidence of children’s pure, divine, joyful nature!

I feel a bond with sunflowers.

I know these flowers offer more than beauty.

My first memories of sunflowers came from my childhood when I romped in my grandfather’s massive gardens, picking and eating berries with my cousin, Melissa. In one of his gardens, my grandfather also grew giant sunflowers. So beautiful and so much larger than me!

Later in life, I learned these flowers offer more than beauty. These flowers are teachers. All of creation can teach us something valuable if we are willing to explore symbolic insights.

At the graveyard next to the two-lane highway in rural Texas, a place designed for the living to remember what they have lost, instead of sorrow, I can marvel at what I have found. That field of sunflowers reminded me of my childhood, carelessly picking berries, and of the great insight that beautiful flower has the power to transmute toxins, especially when facing the light.

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” —John 8:12 NIV