Butterflies!

 

This is why I don’t normally grow brassicas. As I walked down the garden path, I noticed that the anti-butterfly netting I had positioned over the broccoli didn’t reach the ground. My eye travelled up to the skeletal remains of several of the broccoli. What did remain supported an army of ravenous, spiky, black and red caterpillars devouring the leaves.

They give me the creeps, but I know someone who loves all things creepy and crawly.

‘Flick!’ I cried. ‘Look, more caterpillars for you to collect!’

She grabbed the ice cream tub in which she had gathered the last lot, who had chomped their way through the Jacob’s Ladder in the garden. Happily, I gave her a few under-leaves of the lettuce, so they wouldn’t go hungry.

Now, I confess, I am in a moral dilemma. Flick is away for the week on holiday with her family. My instinct is to squash those guys and get rid of the evidence. But I could never confess to doing that. So, maybe, I will need to make sure they have enough leaves and water to survive and pupate.

I do love butterflies. Flick knows I love butterflies. So how can I be so hard-hearted towards caterpillars? Like a lot of things about me, it doesn’t make sense.

Hmm. Just read the story of the prodigal father. Seems to me the younger brother was a real ugly caterpillar, but still his father loved him. Turned out, when the younger brother returned and was being feted, the elder brother was also a real ugly caterpillar.

But in the eye of the father, they were both beautiful butterflies.

In the communion service, there is an invitation from Jesus to ‘feed on me’. It is as I feed on him, that there is hope for me, too. One day, I will be a beautiful butterfly. In the meantime, though, I’m a creepy crawly caterpillar. But still, my Father loves me.

Incredible as that is, it’s true.