a history of LADYBUGS

I have always loved ladybugs. Always.

I can remember when I was a little girl sitting down by the driveway in the grass near the drainage pipes that ran underneath the concrete. I sat there mesmerized by the little bugs as they opened and closed their wings, fascinated that they always seemed to want to climb onto my finger. The day was sunny and breezy.

I was small. And they were tiny.

Sometimes Sweet

Years later there was a time in my life where she would always seem to find me wherever I was. Journaling on the beach, she found me. Getting out of my car, she found me. Walking down the street, she found me. Inside a museum,

she still found me.

And even now, in this chilly weather, I climbed a hill and admired a view and there she was, reminding me that I am loved and a part of something special. I love that throughout life objects and people and themes and words and even tiny creatures follow us, connecting us to our Creator. Sometimes we miss the connection, but it's nice when we can recognize that we are a part of something bigger, that God is sovereign and weaves our lives through those around us, creating significance to our lives.

Warm Pears

~~~

A ladybug landed on my sweater one day while I was hot and sweaty. She stayed for a while, then flew away, landing on a small girl wearing a hat and gloves. She walked away, not noticing the little creature. But I saw, and watched as she carried my friend farther and farther away. Off to a new place carrying the thread of meaning to more little girls.