The look of concentration on your face is intense as you gently scoop the limp dragonfly out of the tidepool. With palms cupped, you shield the tiny creature from the sea breeze. Plopping down in the sand you blow ever-so-gently on the lifeless form several times to no avail. You search until you find the perfect shell to provide protection for the delicate little body.
Our walk home is slowed by your methodical gait designed to cause as little distress as possible to your patient. The look on your nine-year-old face changes and it takes me a few moments to place it.
It is faith. Pure and simple faith.
An hour after we arrive home, you are sitting on the porch unaware that you still wear the wet swimsuit or that sand dots your golden skin. Once again you are gently blowing on the small unmoving form. Then a tiny flutter of wings begin; you call my name in an excited voice. I fear it is just an illusion caused by the wind.
The flutter picks up speed until the reborn dragonfly disappears into the sky.
You never doubted for a second.
Thank you Joshua for reminding me about mustard seeds.