The unfolding legend of the Fiery Skipper

A little orange butterfly with the most impeccable timing

It was the first summer that our son JeeWoo was home with us. (He was 2.)
It was the first summer in our new house. (It was month 2.)

It was the first time I was leading a video-based, group-coaching program but round 2 for the topic of Break the Ground: Taking you from “I’ve gotta start doing it” to “I’m doing it” in 30 days. It was all about getting past those scary first steps of that thing you’ve always wanted to do. And guess what week we were in? 2.

« time out »

This post has nothing to do with firsts or the number 2 but everything to do with timing, so I can’t help but highlight the crazy connections I’m catching.

« time in »

This was the first coaching thing I had done in a long time, and looking back, I realize it wasn’t the best time.

Not only was I still adjusting to motherhood (It had only been nine months!) AND attempting to work remotely for the golf course I used to help manage, but adapting to a new home and different routines was taking quite a toll on me. It was certainly a good stress, but stress, nonetheless.

I knew I was physically and mentally exhausted, but I was completely unaware of the space and grace I needed to give to myself. My emotional hunger overpowered everything.

All I wanted was to feel like myself again, to lead again, to work hard on something again, to connect with adults again, and to have accountability to work on the book — that I had been coming back and forth from for five years — again.

Don’t get me wrong:

I loved that I was finally a mom. I loved bearing witness to all the incredible “firsts” and watching this resilient little boy take on the world. I loved the bond that was strengthening between us with each passing day.

But not working on SOMETHING was slowly killing me. So I kept pressing. I kept seeking. In every open pocket of time I could find, I kept doing.

Yet wrestling between being a good and present mother and a great and energized leader was causing tension in every corner of my life.

I mean, the pea-sized bump that popped out of my upper eyelid just days before I made my first video (AND STAYED THERE ALL MONTH) should have been the first indication that I was overdoing it.

However, I kept moving.

Then, one afternoon, I finally fell apart — on the phone with my mom — while JeeWoo played in our turtle-shaped sandbox. As I sat on the green plastic edging that is so not meant to hold a human butt, all the tears fell out of my face as I vented to my mama about how burnt out I was.

Her response gave me the wake-up call I needed:

“Brit. Your body is telling you something. You need to slow down. You’ve put too much on your plate. You’ve got this little person in your life who won’t be little for very long. You have your whole life to work. You don’t have that long with him before he’s in school all day. Use this time to breathe, play, and relax. It will all go so fast.”

I’ll never forget those golden words of hers.
I’ll also never forget what happened when I hung up.

After setting my phone in the grass and gazing across the yard, I noticed a never-before-seen, little, orange moth-y thing come firing over the fence and bouncing through the air. Its visit was so fleeting, I wondered if it even happened.

A few seconds later, it made an unexpected return, and this time, there was just enough time for JeeWoo and I to chase it around before it was, well, gone again.

But not for long…again! For a good few minutes, it kept coming and going like it was playing a planned game with us. It was like it could FEEL the delight it was bringing us. It couldn’t get enough of us.

Then, our little friend took her game to the next level when it landed on JeeWoo’s head. (For the first time ever, the kid stood still!)

At that point, I held my hand out for the heck of it, and when it oh-so-willingly landed on my finger, I could NOT believe it. JeeWoo became envious and quickly followed suit, and after a few more darting dances and back-and-forth pursuits, this flying lady took a perfect pause in J-Dub’s palm before zooming off again.

With each awe-inspiring visit, we’d laugh and gasp like we’d found the end of the rainbow.

And all I could think was:

This is the stuff. This is where I need to be. Had I buried my head back into my work, I would’ve missed this wondrous opportunity.

In her brief stints of stillness, we’d catch wide-eyed glimpses of this bulky-bodied, triangular-winged insect that we thought was for sure a moth. Turns out it was a butterfly with an oh-so-fitting name of Fiery Skipper. In our house, though, it’s been forever deemed Orange Moth.

And for the last three years, *just* in the month of July and *only* a handful of times, this merry, mini flyer has been paying us some magical, backyard visits.

Last summer, on the morning of July 6, I actually captured one of them:

This summer, on the morning of July 7, you won’t believe what happened.

There I was, lingering at the kitchen sink and staring out the window while JeeWoo was calling me to play. It was one of those mornings where I was already overstimulated by 10 a.m. but also bursting with creative, reflective energy. All I wanted to do was sit down…alone…with hot coffee…in a quiet house…with my laptop…and create. The ideas in my brain were begging so hard to come out, but the tears behind my eyes were winning the race down the exit aisle.

THEN.

Something special skipped into view.

“JEEWOO!!! ORANGE MOTH IS HERE!!!!!”

My mood was immediately changed as us two nature nerds tiptoed toward the thing we’d been waiting for.

A week later, it visited us again, and this time, my husband David got to experience the magic as it landed on all three of us. If that wasn’t unthinkable enough, it broke all the rules and rested on JeeWoo’s hand for at least 10 minutes.

Naturally, I posted this:

Three days later, we were having a morning.

It was the first day of Adventure Camp, but JeeWoo wasn’t having it. I can’t remember what he was upset about (probs because I wouldn’t let him have leftover crab rangoons for breakfast or something), but you know I remember who showed up and, as always, changed everything.

That afternoon, I received this text from a dear lady in my life:

After my HECK YES, she sent the following:

And my mind was blown.

It still is.

Whether these visits are a coincidence or not, the timing of them is nothing short of impeccable. This little orange butterfly always finds a way to bring me back into the moments that matter. It never fails to remind me that everything is connected and that yes, God’s got this.

How does this all land for YOU?

Is there something in nature that catches your eye? Is there an insect or animal that pays you extraordinary visits? What are the messages YOU receive in those moments?

Tell me in the comments or reply. I’d love to know!