Moth Wings Grace

Yesterday morning, I hit my head on feelings of intimidation and fear right when I woke up. My thoughts shouted at me, throwing stones and making cruel faces. How am I going to succeed at this new job?? How am I going to possibly plan three different classes, including Senior AP, when I have four grad school classes to finish?? I clutched my knees on the floor in the shower, and let the water beat down on me, and felt afraid, and felt small, and felt so unsure of myself.

And then I thought, "Next year will be exactly what it's supposed to be, because that is what God does." And I thought, "Trust anyway. Even though there are myriad reasons to doubt. Trust anyway. He got you this job, didn't he?"

And then I got out of the shower, and I saw a moth beating its wings against the stained glass window, covered in steam. The wings made the most magical pattern on the glass-- light and soft and perfectly unsynchronized-- tiny fans and feathers pleading release from a fog of hard obscurity. It flew to and fro, and the significance of the occasion made me wonder, awed. I once more felt wrapped up in reassurance of His beauty, His attention to the smallest things, the way He can draw the loveliest painting on a window with the dust of a moth's wings and the vapor from streaming water.

I just watched the moth create, and felt so astounded, and so thankful.

Then I opened the window, set it free, and felt a little more courage in facing the day.