• Sherri Phibbs

Wings of Gratitude

Over the weekend, while working in the garage, my husband noticed a large blue dragonfly frantically throwing itself against the glass of the back window in a desperate bid to regain its freedom.


I came upon him softly whispering soothing sounds to the distressed aviator; and watched, breathless, as the little beauty climbed up on the leathery, work-callused hand extended gently in an expression of inter-species connection.


Following quietly, I watched as this roughened, sweat-soaked man, clothed in battered and greasy coveralls, delicately threaded his way passed various garage-stlye obstacles to reach the outside with that small burden still clinging to his finger.



Expecting the dragonfly to take flight, we stood for a moment, watching. When nothing happened, we realized it may be too tired and confused to understand the glass was gone. So, we walked across the yard to a fence post and encouraged the little one to crawl onto the wood.

We watched. Waiting. Our hearts flew with excitement and joy when that little bug finally took flight.


Eyes meeting in the shared moment, we walked back to the garage in silence, smiling softly.

That could be the end, right there, but it wasn't.


Yesterday, four days after The Rescue, my husband started up the bbq after work while still dressed in his workday coveralls. As we leaned against the deck railing, quietly enjoying the beauty of the forest, a large blue dragonfly suddenly swooped in and hovered directly in front of my husband for a brief moment before throwing itself onto his chest, directly over his heart, where it clung to his blue coveralls for a long breath or two.


Our eyes caught, as it flew away.


"A hug and thanks?"

"Do you think...?"


In instant confirmation of our thoughts, a large blue dragonfly swooped back and hovered directly and briefly in front us before rapidly darting away.


We stood there is stunned awe.


My blog posts are about making people realize there is more to the way Nature works than we know or acknowledge.


Cross-culturally, the dragonfly speaks to the human spirit of transformation.

Beginning its life in the water (emotion), it swims and grows until it feels a call to something different. It climbs a stem seeking the light and air (enlightenment and inspiration).


When it reaches the liminal space, the boundary between, it cocoons itself (re-creation), remaking itself with new experiences and deeper understandings, a melding of everything that has come before. It has matured and flies off in an iridescent celebration of life, stretching out to grasp that which sustains it.


What drew us to the deck rail just at that moment in time? Observer, recipient, dragonfly dancer? We were drawn to that which sustains us, like water draws us to drink when we are dehydrated. We were drawn into the dance of the dragonfly with delightful surprise, and it fed our spirits with a hug.


Metaphorically, what does the glass window, the rescue, the tired confusion and gratitude add to the conversation? A statement that sometimes the obstacles to your freedom of spirit are beyond your immediate perception and the helpful assistance of someone with a different perspective and skill set can make all the difference in the world to get you flying again?




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Cochrane, Alberta, Canada