Ken Lovelace Ministries


A RAY OF HOPE Lygia Lovelace Last Wednesday morning was so exciting! For over a week, we had been watching our 5 chrysalises that were hanging inside of our small butterfly house. We really weren’t expecting the butterflies to emerge for another few days, but then, suddenly, there they were! Because we had studied the science of butterflies so carefully, we had hoped to see the actual process—the struggling of the brand new butterfly as it broke through the chrysalis and the spreading of its new wings…but we never did! Every time we peered into the butterfly habitat, more butterflies had already emerged. Nevertheless, the process was exciting to us, and our 2 year old twins were delighted to see the new “airflies” showing off their wings. One particular chrysalis, however, refused to bring forth a butterfly. The children brought their schoolwork and sat at the table beside the butterfly house for several hours that afternoon. As the hours ticked by, we watched this last chrysalis shake and change shapes, but nothing ever came out. Discouraged, the children eventually gave up and, one by one, they wandered away. Occasionally one of us would look into the butterfly house, hoping to see an empty shell, with a new butterfly, but it never happened. We asked each other, “Did we do something wrong?” “Perhaps we shook the butterfly house by accident...” “Maybe the light of the flashlight caused the butterfly to die…” “Maybe it was malformed…” After much thought and more research, no one could come up with a definitive reason. So, by Wednesday evening, we just accepted that fact that we would only have 4 butterflies to care for. I considered throwing that last chrysalis away, so that we would not have it as a hopeless reminder, but decided to leave it… The following morning—Thursday—Ken and I boarded a plane before sunrise to go and visit our 14 year old son who lives in a facility, a long distance away. I was, quite honestly, dreading the trip. When we are at home, doing life as normal, it’s easier to push my longing for this son deep into my heart, where his absence isn’t so painful. But when we visit him, all of the awful memories, and sorrow, come to the surface of my heart, causing raw emotion and heartache. I watched out the window as our airplane took off into the darkness. “Oh, Father, just show me one good thing about this,” I prayed. “This situation with Caleb is just like that chrysalis that wouldn’t open…a constant struggle, just an endless nothing…hopeless. Do something, God. After all, You are a God of hope. Where is there any hope for Caleb? Show me Your plan of hope for this child—my son. Please…just give us a ray of hope…” I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I gasped. I could just see the sun out in the distance—bright orange rays peering through the darkness of the morning. Then, in the next several moments, the sun rose, right in front of my eyes, becoming a clear golden beam of hope through my window! My spirits rose with that morning sun. “True, I don’t know what You are going to do, but Father, I trust You! Thank You for this faith walk. Thank You for my ray of hope!” I smiled at the evidence of His love shining through my window. Our time with Caleb on Thursday went quickly, as it always does. Though I felt that familiar ache in my chest as we drove away from him that afternoon, it had been a good day. We had smiled together and enjoyed each other. Caleb’s heart had been right on the surface—he seemed to enjoy talking to us and spending time with us. We saw glimmers of maturity and progress shining through him as we talked with him. As we prayed with him before we drove away, he put his arms around us and accepted our affection in return. As I looked into his eyes one last time, I no longer felt so hopeless. I looked back at Caleb as we drove away, picturing the Father’s arms around my son—holding Him always, even though I can’t. This morning, exactly 3 days since we saw our son, we were all eating our breakfast and getting ready for church. I set the butterfly house down on the kitchen table. “Today is the day we must free our butterflies!” I reminded the children. Several groans came from the table. “Do we have too?” “They weren’t with us very long.” “We’ll miss them!” “How will they survive?” “Well, they’ll be in God’s hands,” I told them. “We can’t keep them here any longer than they should be—they won’t survive. Think how happy they’ll be flying around among the flowers and trees.” I unzipped the habitat to place the sugar water inside for the butterflies to eat. An empty chrysalis shell lay at the bottom… Could it be?! Yes! Can you believe, so many days later, our last “hopeless” butterfly had emerged and was showing his beautiful wings?!” While the children “oooh-ed and ahhh-ed” at the new butterfly, I stood silent. I understood the message God had for me. Someday, in God’s way, Caleb too would emerge. God indeed has a plan for our son. A plan of hope. A future. This evening, just before dark, we freed all 5 butterflies. Tears stung my eyes as we watched the last one fly toward the heavens. As they disappeared from sight, I once again freed Caleb, too…into the Father’s hands. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

A RAY OF HOPE
Lygia Lovelace

Last Wednesday morning was so exciting! For over a week, we had been watching our 5 chrysalises that were hanging inside of our small butterfly house. We really weren’t expecting the butterflies to emerge for another few days, but then, suddenly, there they were!

Because we had studied the science of butterflies so carefully, we had hoped to see the actual process—the struggling of the brand new butterfly as it broke through the chrysalis and the spreading of its new wings…but we never did! Every time we peered into the butterfly habitat, more butterflies had already emerged. Nevertheless, the process was exciting to us, and our 2 year old twins were delighted to see the new “airflies” showing off their wings.

One particular chrysalis, however, refused to bring forth a butterfly. The children brought their schoolwork and sat at the table beside the butterfly house for several hours that afternoon. As the hours ticked by, we watched this last chrysalis shake and change shapes, but nothing ever came out. Discouraged, the children eventually gave up and, one by one, they wandered away. Occasionally one of us would look into the butterfly house, hoping to see an empty shell, with a new butterfly, but it never happened.

We asked each other, “Did we do something wrong?”

“Perhaps we shook the butterfly house by accident...”

“Maybe the light of the flashlight caused the butterfly to die…”

“Maybe it was malformed…”

After much thought and more research, no one could come up with a definitive reason. So, by Wednesday evening, we just accepted that fact that we would only have 4 butterflies to care for. I considered throwing that last chrysalis away, so that we would not have it as a hopeless reminder, but decided to leave it…

The following morning—Thursday—Ken and I boarded a plane before sunrise to go and visit our 14 year old son who lives in a facility, a long distance away. I was, quite honestly, dreading the trip. When we are at home, doing life as normal, it’s easier to push my longing for this son deep into my heart, where his absence isn’t so painful. But when we visit him, all of the awful memories, and sorrow, come to the surface of my heart, causing raw emotion and heartache.

I watched out the window as our airplane took off into the darkness.

“Oh, Father, just show me one good thing about this,” I prayed. “This situation with Caleb is just like that chrysalis that wouldn’t open…a constant struggle, just an endless nothing…hopeless. Do something, God. After all, You are a God of hope. Where is there any hope for Caleb? Show me Your plan of hope for this child—my son. Please…just give us a ray of hope…”

I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I gasped. I could just see the sun out in the distance—bright orange rays peering through the darkness of the morning. Then, in the next several moments, the sun rose, right in front of my eyes, becoming a clear golden beam of hope through my window! My spirits rose with that morning sun.

“True, I don’t know what You are going to do, but Father, I trust You! Thank You for this faith walk. Thank You for my ray of hope!” I smiled at the evidence of His love shining through my window.

Our time with Caleb on Thursday went quickly, as it always does. Though I felt that familiar ache in my chest as we drove away from him that afternoon, it had been a good day. We had smiled together and enjoyed each other. Caleb’s heart had been right on the surface—he seemed to enjoy talking to us and spending time with us. We saw glimmers of maturity and progress shining through him as we talked with him. As we prayed with him before we drove away, he put his arms around us and accepted our affection in return. As I looked into his eyes one last time, I no longer felt so hopeless. I looked back at Caleb as we drove away, picturing the Father’s arms around my son—holding Him always, even though I can’t.

This morning, exactly 3 days since we saw our son, we were all eating our breakfast and getting ready for church. I set the butterfly house down on the kitchen table.

“Today is the day we must free our butterflies!” I reminded the children.

Several groans came from the table.

“Do we have too?”

“They weren’t with us very long.”

“We’ll miss them!”

“How will they survive?”

“Well, they’ll be in God’s hands,” I told them. “We can’t keep them here any longer than they should be—they won’t survive. Think how happy they’ll be flying around among the flowers and trees.”

I unzipped the habitat to place the sugar water inside for the butterflies to eat. An empty chrysalis shell lay at the bottom…

Could it be?!

Yes! Can you believe, so many days later, our last “hopeless” butterfly had emerged and was showing his beautiful wings?!”

While the children “oooh-ed and ahhh-ed” at the new butterfly, I stood silent. I understood the message God had for me. Someday, in God’s way, Caleb too would emerge. God indeed has a plan for our son. A plan of hope. A future.

This evening, just before dark, we freed all 5 butterflies. Tears stung my eyes as we watched the last one fly toward the heavens.

As they disappeared from sight, I once again freed Caleb, too…into the Father’s hands.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11