Las libélulas doradas

The last two evenings while playing my accordion, I witnessed clouds of gold hovering in front of my house, stretching across the street. I rose and stepped up to the large front window so I could see what the clouds of gold were. They were dragonflies, hundreds of them. I’ve never witnessed hundreds of golden dragonflies before; it was as if I’d entered into another realm or a place of spirit or magic, made even more magical by the glinting of sunlight flashing on my accordion. If only I were a visual artist I might capture my golden accordion flashing with lights surrounded by these dragonflies, and it would be a powerful image of something intangible. Sadly, I’m not.

Please believe me; I’m not an occultist. I’m a Christian, which means I firmly believe in the realm of the spirit, and I also believe God communicates to us through both natural and supernatural means. That is, dragonflies are part of the natural world, just as butterflies are. If you’ve been following me for long enough, you already know white butterflies have been an important symbol to me. When I’m being silly, I call them angels, but I truly believe God has used white butterflies as a means of encouragement and confirmation in my life numerous times, whether they are angels or not. Did I mention there was a dearth of white butterflies during the pandemic? I can’t explain it, but that was the reality. They’ve all but disappeared now, as well, when they are usually numerous at the start of August. Of course, the heat has been record breaking this year, and I don’t expect the usual to occur under such extremes.

Perhaps preparing to work on my delivery driver book, last night I dreamed I was working alongside my character. We were in the warehouse loading the delivery truck together; we drove around in his sweet personal truck together (yes, I gave him a 1978 Silverado because I’m benevolent to my characters); we went to the gym together later in the evening. At the gym, a few golden dragonflies flew around us, and the voiceover that’s been prominent in my dreams lately said, “The time of butterflies is past. Now is the time of dragonflies.” Laugh if you want, but that’s what my dream narrator said. And surprise — I just glanced up from my screen and a lone golden dragonfly flitted through the front yard.

I love to consider such ideas of the natural and supernatural meeting — of a God who created beauty and gave us a spiritual life as well as an intellectual one. I can’t imagine what it would be like to dwell only in the intellectual. Even though that is a human tendency, I’ve tried to push myself to discover the world that exists outside my head, not to mention the one that dwells in the places normal eyes can’t see. In Ephesians 1:18, the epistle writer says, “Open the eyes of their hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. Shine Your light on the hope You are calling them to embrace. Reveal to them the glorious riches You are preparing as their inheritance.” I want the eyes of my heart to be open to all the riches, all the wonders God has prepared for me. It’s a different seeing; it’s not superstitious, and the riches are not of this world. But what is the truth of dragonflies? I don’t know. Butterflies brought and still bring, as far as I’m concerned, a sense of hope for the future. Perhaps dragonflies are a different kind of hope — a more mature one. I don’t want to overthink it. Finis. May God bless your week.