Butterflies are having a moment. I say this because I’ve just ordered a butterfly blouse, and the earrings I’m wearing at this present moment, as well as the necklace around my neck, are tiny (fake) diamond butterflies. I’m turning into my grandmother. Next time you go shopping, look for the butterflies. I promise that they are everywhere right now. That makes me feel so current.
It also makes me feel like I was just a little ahead of the butterfly game. If you’ve followed me for any amount of time on Facebook, then you might know that my butterfly obsession started long before the latest butterfly fashion trend. Just call me Anna Wintour. I would like to say that the current butterfly trend originated with me, but I am not sure that ANY trend has EVER originated with me. Just ask my 18 year-old daughter who daily questions my fashion sense. (Secretly, I think that she might just be jealous of my wardrobe, but I’ll play along regardless).
So pourquoi le Papillon Jaune? It might be because “everything in French sounds fancy”, just like Fancy Nancy said, and I like to think that I am fancy. In French “le Papillon” means “butterfly”, and “jaune” is the color “yellow”. My French is limited to the two years I had in high-school and my two semesters of college French, where I met my husband. He pretended to be dumb so that I would help him with his homework. The rest is l’histoire and is a story for another blog post.
However, the fact that we fell in love in la classe de français has absolutely no bearing on the name of this website.
Several years ago, I was experiencing what I can only describe as a crisis of faith. For those of you who don’t know me well, I was a “twice on Sunday, once on Wednesday, and as often as possible on weekends for youth group activities” Christian. My father was my pastor, I was baptized at age 5, and I essentially lived in the church growing up. I attended a Christian college, also known as “the Bubble”. While my parents did the best they could to expose me to other religions and cultures, that was difficult to do in a small Southern town.
My life after college was the first time I had ever really been immersed in a culture that was so unlike my upbringing. Moving from Birmingham, Alabama, where people dressed up for Sunday brunch whether they went to church or not, to Boston, where I was hard-pressed to find even a “Christmas and Easter-only” Christian, was perhaps the most eye-opening experience for me.
I honestly had never really questioned my own faith until I realized just how many people there were who 1) had no faith at all, or 2) had been hurt by people of faith. My father’s death in 2009 brought about even more questioning. How could God take someone so early who had devoted his entire life to Him and who given Him so much? How could the person I considered to be as close to an earthly version of Jesus now be gone?
My anger with God quickly began to turn into doubt. Did I truly believe what I had been taught my entire life? Christianity began to feel more like something I had inherited and not something that I truly owned.
In the years following my father’s death, I began pouring myself into literature, both Christian and non-Christian, and into the Bible. I doubted my beliefs and questioned my doubts. I wrestled to understand what it was that I actually believed, if I believed anything at all. I spent Sundays visiting different churches, seeking someone who would not only not chastise me for my unbelief, but who could normalize that as a process of solidifying my beliefs.
After church one Sunday in March of 2015 or 2016, I sat outside on my balcony and prayed. My prayer was simple – “God, if you are there and everything that I have believed about you is true, I need for you to show me….like quickly.”
Whether this was simply coincidence or divine intervention, up from the kudzu on the hill below our house, hundreds of yellow butterflies arose. I had sat on that balcony many times before, but I had never noticed the yellow butterflies. It had to be a sign.
From that point on, everywhere I went, I noticed yellow butterflies. While my journey through the deconstruction, and ultimately, the reconstruction of my faith was not solely based on the butterflies, it certainly did not hurt that they seemed to be sent directly from God at just the right moment.
As the yellow butterflies continued to flutter around me, I googled, “What does it mean when you see a yellow butterfly?” I got a variety of answers, but the overwhelming consensus was that yellow butterflies symbolized hope and spiritual transformation. Bingo.
As I continued to see yellow butterflies everywhere, I felt that maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to do something with them. I talked to friends who looked at me like I was crazy. I prayed to God, “What the heck do you want me to do with these butterflies?” God gave me no clear answer.
Fast forward to 2019, and the butterflies were beginning to drive me crazy. I made a deal with God – “God, if you want me to do something with these darn butterflies, then I need a solid answer. If I see a minimum of twenty butterflies while we are in France this summer, then I will do something with them.” – because I’m sure that God likes those kinds of arbitrary deals.
We arrived in Paris on a Sunday and drove to a house in Provence the following day. After unloading our rental car, I sat in garden adjacent to our house. One yellow butterfly flew by….then another….then another. I stopped counting at twenty-two. There was my answer. Whether it was God answering my prayer in that moment or it was just the fact that my eyes were open, I knew that I had to do something with them. What that was, I still did not know.
I came home from that trip, purchased the domain name lepaillonjaune and had a designer create a logo for me. I have sat on this for years in the hopes of God revealing exactly what I was supposed to do with Le Papillon Jaune. Was this a cute name for a children’s clothing line? Was this supposed to be some sort of company that offered some sort of hope to the world, since, indeed, that is what yellow butterflies symbolize? Maybe I am supposed to breed yellow butterflies? I still do not really have a solid answer.
After my meltdown last week, I went on a walk the next day. Greens and yellows are finally starting to pop all over trees and in the ground cover…..and in the dreaded pollen. Nearing the end of my walk, a yellow butterfly crossed my path – the first of the season. Charlie (my dog and best walking buddy) and I stopped to watch him (or her?) flutter back and forth, almost taunting us. It was in that moment that I realized at least my temporary purpose for Le Papillon Jaune.
I have always associated the butterfly with a parent letting go of her child, particularly at a time like high school graduation or a wedding. However, I’ve recently had a new thought. What if the butterfly also represents the child letting go of her parent? What if it is just as important for our child to release us as it is for us to release them? What if this release comes with a chance to embrace a part of us we have neglected or lost in the process of raising our own little butterflies?
What if I am the butterfly, le papillon jaune?
I do not know exactly where I will head with this blog/website, but for now, this is my metamorphosis.
While I do not plan to make this a religious blog, just know that my faith is a central part of who I am and is the reason I am here. My goal is to make this a source of hope, entertainment and perhaps some enlightenment. Perhaps one day it will morph into something else, but for the present time, it is my therapy.
I hope that you will make it part of yours. Beinvenue sur Le Papillon Jaune.
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.
– Maya Angelou