The other day a friend asked me if I ever get disappointed.

I said yes and threw out a spiritually sound answer.

And then the next day happened.

The day where a really big disappointment whacked me upside the head and sent my heart sinking. I’d been asked to speak at a really big event — one of the biggest of my life — and then things fell apart.

Invited — thrilled — excited — honored-included –

turned into

Uninvited — bummed — sad — disillusioned — left out.

And while I still have solid spiritual perspectives to hold on to, my flesh just needs a minute to say, “stink!”

Because sometimes things do stink.

But right when I wanted say, “stink” a few more times, I spotted a bowl that’s been sitting on my dining room table for weeks now. Brooke found some caterpillars a while back, put them in a bowl, and has been holding them hostage ever since. I mean she’s been lovingly admiring them underneath a layer of cellophane.

Wouldn’t you know that those caterpillars formed cocoons inside that unlikely environment.

And then today, as I was muttering, “stink” I glanced across that bowl and sucked the word back down my throat.

The cocoons were empty.

Expecting glorious butterflies, I had to chuckle when I got right over the bowl and closely examined the product of my little girl’s hopes for new life.


I just had to chuckle. Yet another thing in my day that wasn’t quite right.

Or was it?

When Brooke spotted the moths, she was beyond thrilled. Grabbing my hand, she led me outside, ripped off the plastic barrier, and watched the beauty of tiny wings beating — beating — beating and finally fluttering into flight.


As I watched Brooke’s sheer delight with the rich evidence of life before her, she couldn’t have cared less if it was a moth or butterfly. A creature that once only knew the dirt of the earth had just been given the gift of flight. Reaching — soaring-up — up — and away.

And with that, this simple creature pulled the corners of my mouth up into a smile.

Disappointment only stings as long as I let it.