If asked a few decades ago I would not have believed that spirit animals existed. Today, I have a much different position on the matter. What directed me here is a real life experience that can only be described as divine. To tell the story I have to start at the beginning with my beautiful grandmother. My father’s mother was quiet, gentle, fragile and always loving. Not the kind of loving that wraps around and squeezes with all of its might, but the kind that smiles and lets you know that you are seen, heard and loved. Grandma was quiet, especially around her grandchildren. It is possible that her children had an entirely different experience with her, but I can only speak for mine. She often had all of us over on Sundays and my siblings and I enjoyed wandering around the house and playing in the partially finished basement. We also spent hours looking through old black and white picture books in the upstairs bedroom. It was fascinating to see grandma as a child and picture what her life might have been like.

When I was fourteen, I moved to Florida with my family for my father’s new job.  We might have as well been on another continent. Minnesota and grandma were miles away and the new landscape of high school offered a distraction that was challenging at best. Phone calls with grandma and grandpa became conversations about the weather and other cursory topics, nothing truly meaningful. Distance was a difficult barrier and we became less connected over time. I don’t recall exactly when it happened, but shortly after grandpa died, grandma became less and less available. This was the early stages of Alzheimer’s, but at that time I was oblivious to it all. Alzheimer’s is a horrible disease. Grandma slowly forgot who we all were and reverted back to her childhood when she had first met my grandfather. I was off and newly married, busy having my children and creating a life. I have held so much grief that I was not able to connect with her as a woman in those later years. I am sure she would have had much to share and say to me. I still felt some type of connection to her and often pondered why she felt so close to me when our relationship had been somewhat formal.

Grandma passed away and life moved forward. I thought about her often and was heartbroken. I became nostalgic about her Sunday gatherings, powdered sugar donuts and fried potatoes. Many years later, while going through my divorce, I began to notice some strange events.  I was very sick at the time, but had no idea I was already battling MS. Desperate to hold on to some degree of health, I signed up for a yoga class in my neighborhood and walked there twice a week. On a number of those occasions, I made note of a beautiful white butterfly that seemed to fly right next to me as I walked.  This butterfly “followed” me the four blocks to the yoga studio. I was drawn to its effortless beauty, simplicity and air of tranquility. This was one special butterfly. After a few of these interactions, I became certain that something special was happening but could not put my finger on it.

A few weeks later, while meditating at the end of a yoga class, I had the most beautiful vision. There she was, my grandmother, wearing her familiar dress. She was standing by a gorgeous tree with her hands folded in front of her. She didn’t actually say anything, but she didn’t have to.  It was as if I heard her without any words being exchanged. Her smile spoke to me and said “It will all be alright Lavinia. Don’t worry”. When I heard those words, grandma was suddenly encircled with hundreds of white butterflies. They flew in a cyclone like pattern around her yet she stayed perfectly angelic in the middle, smiling at me all the while and sending out the most beautiful and calming energy. I didn’t want that feeling to end. I remember realizing that I was still in class and feeling tears running down my cheek. My chest felt light as if a weight had been lifted. I floated home knowing that grandma was with me when I needed her most. That connection had returned and I felt her love.

A few years later, one of my children had a terrible car accident during a particularly difficult period of her life. I had to leave work to meet her at the scene and remember running up to her, crying and grabbing her face between my hands. I yelled “Are you okay?  I can’t bear to lose you! Is this enough now?” At that very moment, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a single white butterfly drifting by. It lingered in the air with no place in particular to go. Almost as if it were bearing witness to my daughter and I. I felt the same calm as I had that day in yoga. I knew instantly in my heart that the butterfly was a sign from my grandma. She was letting me know in that horrible moment that it was going to be alright, just as she had before. I hugged my daughter close to me and knew that this too would pass. Grandma was sharing her quiet strength and resolve with me and I was grateful.  

As the gentle and timid person that she was with me, I began to understand the strength and resolve she must have had. Connection! Strength does not have to be the kind that trumpets in on a white horse. Sometimes it is the ability to continue on in our darkest times, with the faith that all will be well. I like to think that grandma taught me that. She is forever with me, and I see her often in the calm wind while walking, contemplating and praying. White butterflies still find me and walk alongside me, letting me know that I am never alone. Reminding me that grandma is watching out for me.