Our Butterfly Day

Our Butterfly Day

by Joy Sutton

The last truly fun adventure I had with my sister Joan was during the summer before her death. She and her husband Victor, and my husband Jim and I drove to find a remote place in the northeastern mountains of Georgia, along the Appalachian Trail. Being trail maintainers the guys needed to locate in advance the entrance on the trail before the day of their next hike. We decided to combine their business with a family outing. Joan had undergone recent surgery for liver cancer and thought it had been successful. She was ready now for a relaxing get-away in nature. It was a hopeful and carefree day!

We finally found the trail entry. Once there we had the choice of returning the way we had come or of taking a very risky alternative -- down a primitive road that would require us to ford a stream and a river in the car. Since we were in a new SUV, we decided to take the adventurous way home. The backwoods dirt road had deep ruts and lots of rocks - some quite large. The first stream we had to ford was fairly deep. Water reached the bottom of the car doors. At the very end of the primitive road we had to cross the Tallulah River. It required us to drive about a 100 feet down the twisting river before we reached the exit on the other side. Once across the river we got out of the car to take in the beauty of this lovely place.

Although there were some anxious moments traveling along that road, we had fun nevertheless. We were also relieved to have completed this treacherous part of our journey with us and the car still intact! From here we were able to take a good road home.

Regretfully, my sister's health deteriorated shortly after that day. Joan died that October.

The next summer Victor, Jim and I returned via the good road to that memorable place along the Tallulah River --the spot where we had forded the river. We were in for an awesome sight. Hundreds, if not thousands, of gorgeous butterflies were flying back and forth along the river’s edge. It was the only place along the river where we saw that spectacle that day. It was as though the Holy Spirit was orchestrating something beautiful in this special place and in this unique way! The spot where my sister and I had stood the summer before and had reveled in nature's loveliness.

I’ve returned there several times since then, but I have never seen the butterflies in great numbers like we did that day which I now call "Our Butterfly Day."

Why ask for proof that soul lives on

When body dies;

Do caterpillars recognize their angel-selves

In butterflies?

                                                            (poem by Don Blanding)