I was walking with a friend of mine past the butterfly garden on the way to the library the other day, when I caught sight of a monarch, which had perched upon one of the flowers.

I had to stop. This speckled little man, in his orange jacket and black lace, lunching on the nectar of the earth entranced me more than I could ever hope to convey.

“Okay, Rachel...uh...I need to get to the library before the bell rings.”

“Oh, sorry...”

“Don’t mind. It’s always fascinating to watch you become enthralled by something in nature,” replied my friend, her tone slightly colored by exasperation. Unfortunately, my compatriot was a bit of an insect phoebe and was never as interested in a butterfly, caterpillar, or dew-covered bloom that swung upon its stem as I was, so she never really understood my fascination. That is when the thought struck me. How many times had the Lilies of the Field captivated me? How many times had I walked away, happier and more ready than before, ready once again, to face the trials of the day? How horrible it must be to miss something so simple yet so complex. How dreary a world that awe cannot enter. Millions of elements “randomly” link together in chains and crystals, far to small for the eye to see, conform to make a blossom or a person, and no one is struck by this when they look upon the pansy’s rouge and their friends blush? Has no one else stared at something for minutes straight trying to comprehend its complexities by sheer force of will? To live in a world without child-like curiosity must be cold indeed. I could not describe my loss if that were to be torn from me. I thank heaven for it. It comforts me, when I struggle, to know that there are complexities so great and so vast that they will never be comprehended, even with the will of every human generation trying to unravel it, and that in comparison, mine could be so easily dealt with. My love for this great comfort, this drape of mystery and simplicity is what reminds me though the those around me screech into my face the opposite, that there is a purpose, a cause, a creator and an end, and without that, I do not think that I would be able to survive.

I walked away from the blossom and my tiny insect friend, who had imparted so much logic, and caught up to my fellow.

“What are you humming?”

“Nothing.” And under my breath, “...when I look down from lofty mountain grandeur, I see the stars and feel the gentle breeze. Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to thee, how great Thou art, how great Thou art...”