UNNOTICED

[1]

Many people and most of life’s happenings go unnoticed. At least that’s the way it seems. Still, it’s not always true. Once in a while there is an exception to this axiom.

Like the time a good friend is sitting with me on a high bluff overlooking California’s Santa Cruz Bay. We are enjoying good conversation, warm sodas, a sunny afternoon, a beautiful ocean view, and—butterflies!

Butterflies?

We didn’t come here to watch butterflies. Not at first. My friend is a newspaper editor. Not the sort of guy who chases after insects. Everyone knows newspaper editor’s are rough, tough, hard-drinking, cigar-smoking and worldly wise. That’s the stereotype anyway.

But not my friend. John is thoughtful, quiet spoken, genuine, and great-hearted towards God. As his pastor, I’ve been privileged to encourage my friend on his spiritual journey for some years now. But not nearly as much as he has me. So today we’re here to talk about life, religion, politics—and of course, football. You know, all the important stuff.

Then we notice them.

Monarchs.

Orange, with leopard like black markings.

Beautiful, fragile butterflies.

How long do you suppose they been flying by us?

We’ve been engrossed in the grand seascape before us and in quiet conversation, so it’s hard to say. We guess they’ve been there all along. It’s just taken us a while to see them.

Now that we know they are here our conversation stops, then starts up again with different subject matter. We can’t take our eyes off of these delicate little creatures winging their way southward. They become our new focal point. And we share what little we know about monarch butterflies.

They are headed to California’s seaside Pacific Grove, a small Monterey Peninsula community, home to tens of thousands of monarchs every year at this time, come to spend the winter. To give birth. To die. Their offspring will journey north along this same invisible flyway next year, only to return in a cyclical process that happens over and over and over again. These are some of the very few things we amateur the butterfly watchers know.

And we wonder aloud.

How far have these tiny creatures flown? What motivates them to carry out this herculean feat? What prompts them to choose this location over another? How is it their offspring will come northward along this same exact route in the spring?

Most seem to be traveling alone.

Every so often, we see a butterfly that seems to be acting like a traffic cop for the others. At least this is what we think. It looks to be stationed along the route, reassuring weary travelers that all is well.

We imagine it calling out, “MB217, turn two degrees right, maintain altitude and flight speed. You are on course, just a few miles from touchdown at your final destination. Please don’t give up now. You are almost there!”

One by one they come. And one by one they disappear.

Unnoticed by sunbathers on the beach below us, coaching their summer tans into extended duty.

Unnoticed by surfers intent on catching the wave that will give them an exciting, standup ride to shore.

Unnoticed by fishermen, with poles stuck in the sand, watching for the tug that says they’ve hooked a big one.

Unnoticed by a man sitting a few yards away from us in his delivery truck, going over his customer list, eating a late lunch during an afternoon break.

Unnoticed by just about everyone.

Everyone, that is, except for a vacationing preacher and a newspaper man with nothing better to do than spend the afternoon, sitting on the edge of America, watching butterflies.

Yes, most of life does seem to go unnoticed. People, too.

But not all.

I’ve noticed crowded airports this week, the most traffic of the year, I’m told. People on there way to family gatherings. Security staff making sure everyone is safe. Travelers taking off by the plane load. A thousand destinations, each one homeward bound, bringing families together to celebrate one another, to catch up on things, to gather at the family table, to offer a prayer of thanksgiving for food, for family, for home.

Yes, most of life does seem to go unnoticed.

But not now. Not this year.

Like butterflies, we are making our way home again.

It’s Thanksgiving.

May yours be filled with joy and happiness!

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^[1] Proverbs 20:12