An Anniversary and Puddling Butterflies
“Don’t miss the wonders that surround you, because every tree, every rock, every anthill, every star is filled with the wonders of nature.” - Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart), MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON
The fourth anniversary of Ed’s heart transplant was July 2nd. He was at the cabin, I was in Eagle, Colorado getting my instructions on the Care and Feeding of our almost 6- month- old granddaughter, Kemper, who was being entrusted to Ed and me for a couple of days in Creede. She is really a good baby, and I was only slightly nervous about the car trip the following day, because getting her in-and-out of the car seat to feed and change her is not my favorite part. Fortunately, she slept until the last 10 minutes of the four hour trip, for which I am eternally grateful. She squalled, I sang at the top of my lungs, and Ed met us in the driveway to lug in 4,000 pounds of baby equipment while I wrestled her out of the car and tended to her immediate demands for a fresh diaper and a bottle, not necessarily in that order. Her darling mama, Sarah, arrived on Friday and we had a fabulous weekend with our sweet girls.
Suffice it to say, I did not even think to call him the previous day to wish him a happy heartiversary. I felt terrible for not talking to him on that day and about that day. Other people were not so negligent, and he received wonderful phone calls, texts and emails from doctors, nurses, social workers and dear friends on the transplant team, as well as others who had cheered him on during his medical odyssey and beyond.
Every year post transplant is a landmark and an achievement. It is much like the date that a cancer survivor is officially designated as being in remission and is marked, observed, and celebrated every year by survivors and their loved ones.
Anyone who has tiptoed close to the edge knows that feeling of gratitude and amazement that accompanies that date. Appreciation for breathing, moving, walking, talking, laughing, crying, loving, feeling, working, playing, waking, sleeping is different for those who almost lost it all. Recovering alcoholics and drug addicts mark the anniversaries of their sobriety with that sense of relief and joy and so do their families and friends. Life is for living! Life is for celebrating!
Find something, anything, to be grateful for every single day. Engage in acts of kindness and love until they become second nature. Do not just mark time, GIVE time extravagantly to the people you encounter. Open your eyes and get involved in this life that is an amazing gift.
Being observant presents incredible learning opportunities. A couple of days ago, Ed was showing me a fascinating discovery. Well, it was fascinating to us, but we are self- professed nature nerds. He had noticed there was a place near the river where butterflies were not just flying around in large numbers, but settling on the muddy sand in groups, wings out, flat and motionless. They looked like they were dead, but after a few minutes, would quiver and then start flying around again. I went back again yesterday, after Kemper and Sarah left to go back to Eagle, and watched them while Ed fished a little bit downriver. Butterflies flitted about around me, and there were butterflies lying, wings open, on the damp ground. I knelt down and watched them for awhile, took some pictures, and spent some time looking up this strange behavior on a couple of search engines last night.
The behavior is known as “butterfly puddling.” Butterflies get most of their nutrition from flower nectar. Flower nectar has most everything needed, except for salt and trace minerals. Just like us, butterflies and moths need salt to survive. Lying on mud or damp sand, butterflies are sucking in the salt and minerals vital to life. I can only assume that when one butterfly has found a good spot, others congregate there, too, and get the nutrients they need. I am so glad Ed had his eyes open and shared Butterfly Beach with me (yes, I named it) because it is beautiful, it is peaceful, it is miraculous. I am going back every day and letting that place soak into me like the salt is filling those butterflies.
Where is the salt in your life? In ancient times, salt was a commodity. Roman soldiers were often paid in salt. Contracts were sealed with the eating of salt. Salt was a symbol of fidelity, trust and friendship. Find the people to be the salt in your life. Find those who will lift you up, stick with you, nourish you, rejoice with you in your victories and mourn with you in your sorrows. Be the salt for others. We are all in this together. Now, more than ever, we need to realize we go nowhere by accident.
Happy Anniversary, Ed.
Love and Grace,
Paige