​One day, several years ago, I watched a chipmunk running from my bird feeders with its cheeks full of sunflower seeds. I was so happy and grateful to God for what I saw; I thought of it every day for weeks. Each time I thought about it, I felt good, I felt happy.
 
Then one day I noticed it. There on the ground. The early sprout of one of those sunflower seeds, growing on the bank in front of my home. Immediately, I put stones around it so the maintenance men wouldn’t mow it down. Oh yeah, and every so often my fuzzy friend would come by with some other stolen item clenched tightly in his mouth or being munched on as he trotted full speed across the yard.
 
I saw ten times as many squirrels each week and I enjoyed watching them work on an acorn they had dug up; or more often they were eating the seeds from my bird feeder. It was different when I caught sight of that little chipmunk. My heart would jump and my breath would catch in my throat – for just a second. It truly moved me emotionally each time it happened. He – or maybe she – was so quick. I could never keep up with it as it was traveling through my yard and not getting caught by my fur baby, Panda (my cat).
 
As each week went slowly by, the sunflower sprout grew and grew. In the early weeks of spring I spread some granular fertilizer on my lawn and ok, I admit, I may have hit the area of the little sunflower plant twice with the fertilizer. Looking back at how green the stalk became, I may have hit it three times. It really took off growing fast.
 
Once the head of the sunflower grew up higher than my normal viewing area, I could only see the stalk. One day in early July, toting a bag of bird food, I carefully walked around to where the birdfeeders were hoping to catch a glimpse of the chipmunk whom I hadn’t seen in a while. I was hoping to finally get a picture of that little ball of greased lightning. He was there all right. Twice, I took three pictures of the ground and never got a single hair of its tail. But I saw something even better: there, sitting on the freshly opened sunflower, was the most perfect swallowtail butterfly. The flower had not been touched, it seemed, by any other insects, bird, cat, squirrel or chipmunk. Just this one, very hungry butterfly that appeared to have, within the hour, hatched out of its chrysalis.
 
As I looked in amazement at the beauty of God’s handywork, all I could think of was the praise – Behold, all this new. The flower, the butterfly – both appeared fresh, just hours old. New – it all looked brand new.
 
I came to my senses and raised my camera and took my first photo. She was just slurping up the pollen with her long proboscis. I got closer to her to get a better photo and noticed my shadow fall across her which is almost always the end of the visit. But she didn’t fly off. So, I got closer and closer until I felt like I could just reach out and touch her. That proboscis was working overtime and she methodically pumped those huge, gorgeous wings up and down, up and down. I made my decision. She lowered both wings and I ever so lightly took my pinky finger and laid it on her back. I got the perfect picture of that butterfly hugging my pinky finger with both her wings. Miraculously, she let me do it a second time and never flew away. Jehovah God gave me just the right touch – the one I begged for so as not to hurt her. You see, I really needed a butterfly hug that day in the worst way. I know you have been there. Does anyone ever think of me? Do I even matter?
 
Now, for the rest of my life, when I think about how a tiny chipmunk planted a flower for me to get a special hug from God himself, I will always know: Jehovah intended for us to see and touch every beautiful thing in HIS world and not harm it in any way. To be able to feel its intimate touch with gentle sensitive skin, like Adam and Eve. They were and I will be, made in perfection, to enjoy and become joined and connected with all creation.

Debra Rice, 70 years old, from Bedford, love to learn how to do new things and share the joy of fixing, exploring and creating things that make our lives richer. After her diagnosis of MS in 1991, she embraces every day as a special gift such as her butterfly and chipmunk hug story.