Short Story: 'The Man Who Dreamed About Butterflies'

Introduction

This story is for anyone who has loved deeply and lost gently. It’s for those who see signs in the quiet, who hear whispers in scripture, and who believe that transformation is real. Inspired by the Psalms and the sacred hush of grief, this is Elijah’s journey—and perhaps yours too.🦋

Opening Scene: Elijah’s Awakening

Elijah hadn’t dreamed in months. Not since Ruth passed. She had been the quiet rhythm of his days—the one who folded the towels just so, who quoted verses from Psalm 91 while watering the garden, who left butterfly-shaped notes in his lunchbox even after thirty years.

Now the house was silent. Until the dream.

It came on a Tuesday morning, just before dawn. A single monarch butterfly hovered in the air, its wings patterned over Ruth’s favorite shawl that she wore every Sunday. It didn’t speak, but it moved like her. Tilted its head like her. Paused in the air, like she used to pause before saying something wise.

Elijah woke with tears on his cheeks and a question in his heart: Was that her? Or was that hope?🦋

Scene Two: Ruth’s Wings

Elijah sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the butterfly-shaped magnet on the lamp. It was a monarch butterfly that had been Ruth's favorite, with its orange wings, black margins, and veins.

She had loved butterflies. Not just for their beauty, but for what they meant.

She used to say: “They’re proof that transformation is real. That God doesn’t just fix things—He makes them new.”

Their home had been filled with butterfly touches:

• A ceramic dish by the sink with a butterfly etched into the glaze
• A bookmark Ruth had made from Psalm 51, with a hand-drawn monarch in the corner
• A butterfly bush in the backyard, planted after her recovery from illness, where she’d sit and pray

Elijah hadn’t paid much attention to them before. But now, they were everywhere. And they were starting to move and help him with the grief that he has felt since Ruth's death. 🦋

Scene Three: The Letter Beneath the Bible

Elijah hadn’t touched Ruth’s Bible since her homegoing service. It sat on the windowsill, sunlight warming its worn leather cover. That morning, a beautiful monarch butterfly landed on it.

He stared. Then reached.

Inside, tucked between Psalm 23 and Psalm 91, was a folded letter. It was in Ruth’s handwriting, soft, slanted, unmistakable.

“If you’re reading this, I’ve gone ahead. But I’m still near. Look for me in the butterflies—in the quiet places, in the verses we loved. I’ll be there when you laugh again. When you see the butterflies, remember that transformation is real.”

Elijah wept. Not from sorrow, but from recognition.

He walked outside to the butterfly bush Ruth had planted. He saw a dozen wings fluttering in the morning light. He whispered, “I see you.”

For the first time since her passing, Elijah dreamed again. 🦋

Scene Four: The Teaching Begins Again

Weeks passed. Elijah didn’t rush the healing. He let the butterflies come and go. He read Ruth’s Bible slowly, one Psalm at a time.

Then one morning, he stood before a small group at the community center. They were grieving, searching, silent.

He opened to Psalm 34. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

He spoke not as a preacher, but as a companion. He told them about Ruth and about the butterfly bush. He shared about the letter tucked between Psalm 23 and 91. He told them that transformation is real.

When he finished speaking, a young woman approached him with tears in her eyes. She said, “I saw a butterfly yesterday. I think it was for me.”

Elijah smiled. “Then you’re ready to dream again.” 🦋

A Final Blessing from Elijah’s Journey

May the Psalms be your shelter, the butterflies your messengers, and the hush between verses your healing.

May you teach again, love again, and dream again— knowing that transformation is real.🦋

Closing Reflection

Elijah’s story reminds us that grief doesn’t end—it transforms. The Psalms are not just ancient songs, but living companions, and those we love may still speak through butterflies, verses, and dreams.🦋

A Blessing for Readers

May you find your own butterfly bush. May the Psalms open to the verses you need. May your longing lead you to healing, and may your story become someone else’s hope.🦋