Butterflies

For the past week, a corner of the garden has had so many butterflies that there's constant movement around the flowers and bushes.

There are Cabbage Whites, Red Admirals, Tortoiseshells, Peacocks and Painted Ladies in their hordes, with the odd Grayling (I think) and tiny blues and yellows as well.

From being happy to see just one or two butterflies in the garden I've moved to wondering why there are so few if I see less than five at a time, or if I can walk past the buddleia bush without having several fly into my face or if I can put my foot down without almost treading on one on the ground.

As with all the amazing works of God, it's easy to move from awe at seeing one extraordinary event, to getting used to his spectacular interventions and then taking them for granted, or even finding people's accounts of them a bit of a disruption to my thought process.

When God is really moving in a place, it's fantastic to hear one person after another recounting their experience of him becoming a reality to them, and to see people's lives unfold into something more vibrant and full of colour.

But it's human nature to tend towards getting cynical and jaded, and even the most spectacular interventions of the Creator can be ignored or brushed away or trodden on by cold logic if they risk obstructing the regular route of ideas.

I just hope I don't get used to the butterflies before the weather turns colder and they no longer fly in my face.