I love the poems of Mary Oliver—like the one you just read—and you’ll find a few scattered throughout these pages. There is something about the beauty and honesty of her poems that echoes the prayers of my heart. She reminds me of the simplicity of faith, of how God’s image is reflected in nature all around us, and that when we are quiet, when we connect to the stillness within ourselves, we can hear Him speak.
I hope that within the pages of this book you’ll find moments like that. Moments when your heart flutters as it makes a connection, like finally being able to recall a distant memory, moments when you are filled with the relief of remembering that you are not alone and that God’s loving presence is all around you.
I’ve been a person of faith my whole life. I was raised in a household where it was always the right time for a prayer, where gratitude to God for His blessings was part of the everyday fabric of our lives. I lost my mother suddenly when I was only ten, and our faith became even more essential as my family leaned on each other and God to get us through that difficult and painful time.
I remember the first time I went with my father to visit my mother’s gravesite, not long after she passed. We’d brought some pansies to plant by her gravestone. My mother loved pansies. She used to say she thought they looked like little butterflies.
As we stood there on the breezy hillside praying, a butterfly flew right in front of us, dancing on the wind. And my dad said, “Would you look at that! That wee butterfly could be your mother’s spirit right there.”
As a young girl of ten, the idea that a beautiful butterfly could represent my precious mom gave me great comfort. I have always felt that that butterfly was a gift from God, a reminder of His loving presence. Since that day, butterflies have appeared to me throughout my life, bringing with them peace and reassurance. I always see them as a remembrance of my mother and a sign from God that even though we may feel so incredibly alone sometimes, He is always there.
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.
MAYA ANGELOU
Now, some people tell me, “Well, Roma, you live in California; it’s sunny and your garden is full of flowers, so of course you see butterflies all the time!” And while yes, that is true, I don’t see only physical butterflies. Over the course of my life I have seen butterflies appear in all sorts of unexpected places. A truck will drive by on a rainy city street with a butterfly painted on the side; or in the midst of a long mountain drive, a butterfly will show up on a billboard, on a piece of jewelry in a store, or as a tattoo on a waitress’s neck as we stop for some food. I can’t explain it, but throughout my life at the precise moments I need a sign of hope, I see a butterfly, and it always serves as a reminder of God’s love and reassurance that I am not alone.
Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.
DESMOND TUTU
If you visit my home, you’ll see paintings of butterflies, butterflies on mugs and napkins and pillows and more. Butterflies and angels with wings to fly. Because to me, the butterfly is not just a sign of God’s presence but also a symbol of the promise that we all hold within. A butterfly begins its life as a simple caterpillar, creeping and crawling along the ground. And yet that is just its beginning. Through the process of metamorphosis, through the patience and darkness of the cocoon, this little caterpillar emerges on the other side as a stunning butterfly, a creature with wings and the ability to fly.
I once heard a story of a little boy who saw a cocoon and was so anxious to help the butterfly emerge that he got a small pair of manicure scissors so that he could help cut the butterfly out. What he didn’t know was that it is through the process of emerging from the cocoon on its own that the butterfly gains the power to fly. It’s the very struggle to push out of the cocoon that gives its wings their strength. Without that process, without the struggle, the butterfly isn’t ready to fly. To soar.
I know that this life can be filled with sorrow. We all experience loss and heartbreak. But oh, if we can just remember that in the struggle our wings become stronger. We can get through even the hardest times, and one day we will fly.
We sometimes forget this. We think we will always be caterpillars crawling along the ground or bound in a cocoon. But we all hold the potential to become something else. There is always the chance for rebirth.
One year, for Valentine’s Day, my husband, Mark, took me out to our patio, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean in Malibu, where we live. He handed me a large, exquisitely designed box with a fragrant gardenia on top. I was surprised by how light it was, and I must have looked puzzled. Mark smiled and told me to just open it carefully. So I took the lid off gently, and out flew fifty butterflies. I gasped as I watched them ascend into the sky. My heart filled with joy and delight and my eyes filled with tears. I turned to look at Mark, my heart overflowing with gratitude. My lovely husband had given me a box of butterflies, knowing that for me, the butterfly is a sign of God’s grace, God’s presence.
It was the dearest gift I could have received.
It reminded me of the blessings of my life and the little lessons I have learned along the way, and so I decided to call this book Box of Butterflies. It is my prayer that each page of this book is a butterfly for you. A reminder that God is with you. That He will never leave you or forsake you. And that no matter how dark the cocoon may sometimes seem, there is always light on the other side. The struggle means your wings are growing and being strengthened. Have faith. There are angels watching over you.
Back in 1994, I was an out-of-work actress looking for a job. I had been in Los Angeles for just over a year and was still waiting for my big break. To be honest, I had never really intended to come to L.A. and try to make it as a TV actress. I was classically trained in London and had moved to New York with my heart set on Broadway. My dream came true in the early 1990s, when I was cast on Broadway alongside Sir Rex Harrison in a revival of Somerset Maugham’s The Circle. Yet much to my surprise, some television producers saw my performance and called me in to read for an NBC miniseries called A Woman Named Jackie, a six-hour film about the life of Jackie Kennedy.
He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.
MUHAMMAD ALI
My agency sent me the script, and I read the first of six episodes. The material was compelling, but I didn’t know what character they were thinking of for me. I called my agent to ask. He said with a laugh, “Well, the title role, of course.”
My jaw dropped. It was hard to imagine me, an Irish woman, playing this iconic American beauty. And yet I booked the role, and the series went on to win the Emmy for best miniseries that year. On the heels of its success, I decided to pack my bags again and move to Hollywood to see what other TV or film opportunities might arise.
The idea of moving to Los Angeles filled me with trepidation. I hardly knew anyone on the West Coast, and I did not even know how to drive a car. But I prayed and felt certain I should go. I decided I would try it out; if I did not like it, I could always go back to New York. I felt strongly that if I didn’t give it a chance, I would always regret not having tried. So in spite of being afraid of what lay ahead and with no certainty of outcome, I got on a plane at JFK and flew west.
It was pilot season—that time of year when the hope that keeps all actors in this challenging profession rises, when you think that your next big break might just be around the corner. When you hope that the perfect, special script with the perfect, special role might just show up and change your life.
Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.
JOHN WAYNE
I read through a number of scripts that my agent wanted me to consider, but none was terribly appealing. And then I picked up one with the working title Angel’s Attic (later to be retitled Touched by an Angel). I felt a fluttering in my stomach. I knew immediately that this was something different.
As I opened the packet and began to read, tears came to my eyes. This was the kind of material I had been looking for. The series told the story of angels who show up at crossroads in people’s lives with a message of faith and love. The angels come to earth to remind people that God loves them and hasn’t forgotten them.
I called my agent and told him that I wanted to come in to read for one of the roles. We booked a meeting, and a few days later they called me in to be considered for the role of Monica, one of the lead angels.
As I began preparing for the audition, I couldn’t believe that this script presented me with an opportunity to play an angel and bring to life so many elements of the faith that I held dear. In addition, the two lead angels were women who shared an empathetic and loving relationship. Most of the scripts I was reading were about women in conflict, fighting over something or in competition with one another. But here were two women, two angels, who had so much love for each other. The story was inspirational and told of God’s grace, not something that Hollywood or network television was necessarily known for.
As I prepared for my audition, I realized that playing the role of Monica would require a compassionate heart. And I felt deep in my soul that I had been prepared for this role by the loss I had experienced in my own life. I knew that I could relate to the very people Monica was coming to visit, that I could meet those people in their places of loss and hurt because I had felt loss and hurt so intensely myself at such a young age. I understood then that God had been preparing me, and I’d now been given the chance to turn my pain into purpose.
When I went in to read for the part, I felt torn about how to approach my portrayal of Monica. I had, of course, worked on my American accent during the rehearsals for playing Jackie, but there was something within me that felt like the lyricism and musicality of my native Irish accent might be right for this special part of an angel. I knew it would be risky. It might cause me to lose the role. Once people hear my accent, it’s often all they can hear, even when I’m speaking in an American accent. But I couldn’t ignore this feeling.
The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
RUMI
I walked into the room and read my lines, as I’m sure every other actress had read them, in an American accent. It seemed to go well. But then, before I left the room, I turned around and cautiously asked if I could read it again. The producers nodded, perhaps a bit confused. And then I read Monica’s lines in my native Irish brogue.
The energy in the room changed immediately. Everyone in the room could feel it. Something clicked.
As I left the audition, I thanked God for guiding me to listen to my instincts. Sure enough, I was called back for a screen test, and they requested that I read it again in my Irish accent.
A few days later, I received a call from my agent. “I have good news and bad news,” he said.
“Good news first,” I said.
“You booked the show!”
“That’s amazing,” I said. “What’s the bad news?”
“If the pilot gets picked up, you have to move to Utah,” he said.
I laughed and said I thought I could handle that! I had never been to Utah but had heard it was beautiful. I was so thrilled with this opportunity, the chance to play Monica, and knew that my life was going to change in huge ways.
Obviously that pilot was an answer to prayer. It was a breakout moment for me and resulted in almost a decade of creating a beautiful show and being part of a cast and crew who truly became my family.
But it became so much more than just my profession. Playing an angel for almost ten years truly changed me. It touched my heart deeply, and strengthened my faith as well.
My favorite part of each episode was filming the scene we called the “angel revelation.” It came about forty minutes into the show. Monica was an undercover angel pretending to be a nurse or a doctor or a police officer, but she was truly there to help someone at an emotional crossroads. The moment always came when they broke down, feeling lost in the midst of their painful circumstances, before finally fully surrendering to God. They would cry out: “I cannot do this by myself. God help me.” This was the central, emotional heart of each episode. Monica would then reveal her true identity as an angel from Almighty God. She was a messenger, and the message was this: “There is a God, He loves you, and He has a plan for your life.” Before filming this scene, I would close my eyes, open my heart, and pray.
It was an emotional moment to film, but it also filled me up—so much so that I would leave the set feeling as if God had just touched me personally. This was the moment that person opened his or her eyes and felt the truth he or she had forgotten: That he or she was a special child of a loving God—a child who was loved unconditionally. That God was always there. That he or she had never been alone, despite desperate feelings of loneliness.
It was a moment of remembering.
When we are caught up in the busyness of our lives, we forget our true role in this life. When we are wrapped up in worrying about the future or are stressed about something we did in the past, we do not feel God’s peace. But if we can simply stop and be in the now, we can remember Him. In remembering Him we come to a point of stillness and surrender. And it is in our stillness that God comes in. It is in the silence that we hear the whisper of His voice.
Be still, and know that I am God.
PSALM 46:10 (NIV)
It was such a privilege to bring that message of unconditional love to a nation full of viewers for so many years.
And in some ways, that is what I am trying to do in this book. I pray this book is a moment of remembering for you. A remembering of who you really are, how much God loves you, and that you are never, ever truly alone.
Before we would film each scene of revelation, we would pray as a cast and crew. My personal prayer was always, “Less of me, more of You.” I pray that for this book as well. This is not about me or my life or even my faith. This is about how God has shown up in my life—and how He can show up in yours.
In these pages I’ll share songs and prayers and poems that have kept me going in both the sunshine and shadows of my life. I’ll share glimpses of God that I have found in the written word or in a particular image. And I pray that as you read these words, you may remember, you may awaken, you may feel God’s gentle presence. And that you then may go forward, knowing that the greatest Shepherd, Companion, and Father is always by your side.
For I am the Lord your God
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you.
ISAIAH 41:13 (NIV)