Yellow Butterfly

Hello

It is autumn in Upstate New York: beautiful leaves, crisp air and my son's Fall soccer season. With the beginning of school and homework along with so many soccer games, the frantic pace of life can make one oblivious to the loveliness of mother nature all around us.

Each Saturday morning, I hunker down in my red folding chair on the sideline of my son's soccer field. I bring my blanket because of the wind that whips down the field to send a morning chill down my spine. I usually set up my chair next to my friend Amy and her daughter Carys.

Sitting still has often been a difficult task for me. I like to 'move' and I like to 'do'. It takes an extreme amount of effort for me sit still and watch my son run up and down the field. I chat with Amy and I listen to the chatter going on all around me. There are many moms and dads running after their little children while trying to carry on a conversation. I over hear snippets of chat about school and homework, or about activities these families have planned after the soccer game. Between the noise of the game, the running around of siblings and the chatter of conversations, Saturday mornings on the sidelines is busy and chaotic.

That is unless you are Carys. Carys is my first grade friend who always has a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face. She sits next to her mom and politely answers any question I have for her on that particular morning. And some days, Carys just sits quietly.

One morning, while busy-ness was happening all around Carys and me, she poked me in the arm. Her poke snapped me out of my temporary "zoning out" due to watching the back and forth action on the soccer field. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Look, a yellow butterfly!"

My eyes followed her little finger pointing towards the green grass near the sideline of the field in front of us. Her pointing followed the butterfly's dainty dance along the tops of the blades of grass and eventually up into the air and away.

She looked at me with her big toothy smile and said, "Wasn't that beautiful?"

I looked at her, smiled and agreed, "Yes, it was soooo beautiful."

We sat there together enjoying the moment. Soon the butterfly returned. This time we both watched its dance. I leaned over to her, "Do you see the little white butterfly near by?" She squinted her eyes and searched. When she found it she looked at me and sighed, "Oh yes, it's so tiny."

And that is how it went for a few minutes; the two of us, sitting and watching.

Eventually both butterflies few away and our attention returned to the soccer game. The noise of the playing field again filled our ears. We settled into our happy chatter and before long the moment passed.

Upon reflection I wondered how many moments like this I have missed because of the activity surrounding me. So many good activities, like watching one's son's soccer game, grab the attention of loving, caring, well-meaning people to the exclusion of nature's grand show. The butterfly or perhaps a bee buzzing from dandelion to dandelion, gently nudging our consciousness from the "to do" towards the "to be." The "must do" towards the "must be."

The game went on, and eventually came to an end. I'm not sure whether we won or lost. But I am sure of the excitement that was palpable as each mom and dad hugged and congratulated their little soccer player for a job well done. Cleaning up, and folding up, and prodding little children towards the parking lot took precedence as the next team prepared to take the field.

I too, engrossed in activity, said my good-byes to other parents and friends. Then, I squatted down to look Carys in the eye..."Thank you sweetie, for sharing your yellow butterfly with me. It was the best part of the whole morning." She smiled and nodded, then took her mom's hand and headed off towards the parking lot with her family.

I watched grateful for the moment; standing on the sideline of a lovely green field, surrounded by colorful trees and enveloped in a brisk, crisp autumn wind. Not moving, not doing...just being.

Yellow butterflies are lovely.

Have hope.
Donna