Dragonfly

We’ve always enjoyed this time of year so much, even if allergies mean I sneeze more often. The beautiful weather and fall colors mean our windows and garage door have been open more, to take it all in.

One bright morning, I opened our garage door to beautiful and glorious sunshine. As I ambled out, breathing in the clear morning air, I noticed a huge dragonfly lying on the floor near the entrance. I’d noticed one darting in and out the day before and must have unintentionally trapped it inside overnight. I felt badly, imagining it flying around in the dark looking for an exit. Now, with a wisp of spider web clinging to her wings, she lay motionless on the floor, apparently dead. Like most garages this time of year, spider webs haunt the window wells and corners.

I had half a mind to sweep her aside but because I’m kind of a nature geek, I stooped down for a better look. To my surprise, the dragonfly wasn’t dead at all, just completely tuckered out from trying to free herself from the thread-like bonds on her delicate wings. I gently peeled the webbing from the edges of her wings and placed her on a nearby shrub. I stood back and watched to see if she would respond. The sunshine felt good on my face and its warmth soaked her body, too, while glistening on the paper-thin wings. Then, suddenly, she was airborne, dancing on the gentle morning breezes.

To tell you the truth, I’m amazed I even saw her; camouflaged as she was, I might have stepped on her. But with just a little gentle care, freedom was restored, and she lived to fly and catch mosquitoes another day.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, but all our children were born within a month of each other in the fall. Last week, we had a birthday dinner at our house for Abbey, our eldest, with the family circled round. As can often happen, hopes and expectations got bumped when the actions of the youngest, whose birthday it wasn’t, found large expression in her refusal to take part. The happy evening festivities of dinner and presents felt a bit hijacked, as several of us tried to intervene through frustration. I didn’t help matters when I blurted out, in serious tones, a somewhat harsh, backhanded comment. That was it. It wasn’t one of my prouder fathering moments, but those harsh, angry words, and direct eye contact, wrapped her up in hurt and pain. Oh, she sat down well enough, but not for long, and her emanations spread out all over the place. I didn’t say anything more after that; others hadn’t even noticed, but she had.

My contribution seemed so small considering all the drama she had been spinning. I could have easily dismissed it but knew better. My conscience was pricked, and I’d have to address the pain at the right time.

Later, when the house calmed down and dessert was served, I snuck off to the basement where a wet-faced frustrated little girl lay curled up reading a comic book. She glanced up with a furrowed brow, expecting me to make some sort of joke to gloss things over.

“Hey, can I talk to you a second?” I snuggled up close, face-to-face.

“What?” she responded suspiciously.

“I want to ask your forgiveness for talking to you like that. That really hurt you, didn’t it?” She nodded and immediately burst into tears.

“That was very wrong of me to say, I’m sorry. I don’t think that about you; would you please forgive me?” She was already nodding her head before I finished the question and tears of a different kind flowed. We hugged and that was it—the atmosphere changed, and freedom came with that simple act. Like wiping off a spider web.

God once accused the prophets and priests of Israel, who were charged with caring for Israel, of wrongdoing. He said, “They dress the wounds of my people as though they weren’t serious, saying, it will be okay, it will be okay.” (Jer. 6:14)

I wonder how often I’ve treated others’ pain as if it weren’t serious? I’m so grateful I was able to bring repair in this case, yet painfully aware I helped cause the pain. But forgiveness is a wonderful thing, it frees the heart to give and receive.

Do you feel closed in, flying blind in the dark? Have some cobwebs of relational strife wrapped you tight, and left you for dead?

Well, the garage door of forgiveness is opening for you. If you walk out into it, rather than sweep it aside, I believe the Lord will pick you up, peel off what entangles, and place you in a new place of freedom. A place where prayers are unhindered.

Here’s to little girls and dragonflies. Both fragile, strong, and beautiful.