I was out front, watering the garden that runs along the white picket fence, when I heard my son Noah yell. “Quick, Mommy! Quick! Come here! Hurry!”
His voice was urgent, pressing, so much so that I stopped what I was doing and quickly walked over to where he was crouched at the curb. I bent down next to him, concerned that something was the matter, but he just pointed into the air.
Floating on a gentle current along the tops of the phlox was a curious bug, a miniscule creature about a quarter the size of my pinkie nail. It looked to me like a thin shred of paper, the handmade kind – bumpy, lumpy, pasty paper with bits of flower petals and leaves rolled into it.
…I’m over at (in)courage again today, with part 2 of my guest post series on Spiritual Misfit
