A cherished neighbour and friend of our family, Monica, died. At her funeral, her family and friends joined in recognising her love of butterflies by wearing blue paper butterfly broaches.

 

Monica's coffin was covered in one of her hand knitted blankets, adorned with crocheted colourful butterflies she'd created herself,  being a virtuoso with needles and wool.

 

During the service, I saw what I thought was an autumn leaf on the ground of the church aisle. It was September, after all. The leaf bounced gently, gaining height and momentum. It appeared to be charting its own course. It was joined by other "leaves", gradually gaining our attention. 

 

The service continued.  Neil, one of Monica's children, in the front pew, turned to us. On his order of service, a butterfly had come to rest. It wasn't alone, as several, perhaps four or five, danced gently around us. Monica's daughter Louise, was due to speak. 

 

She was smiling. "Sorry, we're a bit distracted by the butterflies," she said, by way of explanation.

 

God finds such ingenious ways to lift our eyes and our hearts and to comfort us.

 

Me and my husband live in one room, which is not unusual in London. I seek out different times and places to pray. There is a church at the end of our high street which has a small side chapel open for prayer during the day - a miracle in itself, as many churches are closed during the week because of crime.

 

One day, instead of being alone, I arrived to see the priest preparing to say Mass. A man and woman were in two of the seats. We greeted each other and spoke after the service.

 

They were brother and sister, and Mass was being said for their parents, who had both died. 

 

I thanked them for letting me be there with them. They thanked me for sharing in the service, saying my presence had supported them. 

 

"What's your name?" they asked me.

 

"Krystyna," I said. 

 

The woman's face lit up into a smile.

 

"Our sister is called Krystyna."

 

"She couldn't be here today. God sent another Krystyna.... you."

 

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ (2 Corinthians 1:3-5, NIV)