There were so many butterflies. Some paused long enough to allow me to snap a photo, but the blue ones were elusive. I saw plenty of them, but they were fast. I don’t know how many photos I took, trying to capture one with a quick click. At one point, I put my camera on action mode and simply walked along the highest trail, clicking over and over as they flew around. I still doubted I captured a single shot.
Yet I found this on my camera later that evening when I sat in my room.
A vibrant blue butterfly with wide open wings in contrast to the cracked grey wall, accenting the splashes of green plants.
I gasped at the beauty of the captured moment.
I didn’t capture the butterfly. It is likely still fluttering around, being elusive to others and being clueless that people are watching. And I didn’t capture it’s essence either. I mean, that would have taken video, and it still would have been brief with all it’s darting up and down the tall butterfly enclosure, weaving in and out of foliage.
All I captured was a moment. But that is often the beauty of photography.
I appreciate the color and softness against the harsh, cracked wall. I appreciate the wings that remind me of love and hope and possibilities. I appreciate the design God created for this specific creature.
Most of what I appreciate goes far beyond this moment. Just as we flutter this way and that, coming in contact with so many, often being clueless to who is watching and following, many of the snapshots of our lives are not memorable or capturable. But there are some that stick…
I’m not talking about selfies. I’m not talking about photos with filters and touch ups. Nothing staged. The butterfly could not be posed. And the most important moments in our lives cannot be posed either. There are moments that are captured—some are beautiful and some are not, just as some photos are inspiring and some are devastating.
Sometimes our ugliness contrasts against a beautiful backdrop. Other times, beauty pops against the most ordinary backdrops of life.