We went to Malaquite, our very favorite Texas beach. It’s on North Padre Island and is actually in a national park so you don’t drive on the beach and there isn’t a restaurant for miles. It’s a spectacular place to camp because the beach is super clean as are the bathrooms and most people simply do not know it is there. We love it.

We only spent a day there because technically our home was parked on Port A but this means we got to devour Doc’s food (a groovy little place with spectacular sunsets over the water, live music and in the ladies’ room, aromatic sea salt to make your hands super smooth). We go there every time we hit the beach and it’s always a good time. We also got to visit our strange, dead tree that must have washed in from somewhere fabulous many, many years ago. I’m often tempted to swim out to it but especially in November the water is far too chilly for that. Crabs amused us with their furious digging. Danny and I held hands and the girls made sand angels and braved the waves.

This visit something new happened. The day was especially windy even for the beach and a flock of monarchs rested up by the visitors’ center. The bushes were alive with their distinguishable orange and black wings beating almost in rhythm with the surf. Perhaps they were on their migration to Mexico? We don’t know but dozens of them landed on the shore and the crashing waves drowned them. We found their little bodies strewn all over the place and it was heart wrenching. Then PN found a live one, wings barely moving, little legs flailing about. She scooped it up carefully and declared a sand dune, covered in grass, a butterfly hospital. For the next hour the four of us scoured the beach in search of still-live, lovely butterflies (which are really, really big up close and personal). We delicately carried them to the hospital and either placed them on the dry sand or perhaps their legs grabbed on to a branch before we ran off to rescue another one.

Nineteen in all. I know that’s not a complete sentence and I put a period there anyway. Move on. Nineteen amazing creatures saved from pounding, relentless water. We felt like park rangers, like crocodile hunter, like the Wild Kratts! Slowly but surely they wobbled around, fanning their wings out, testing the air. One of them took off into the sunbeams and we cheered for it. We had to leave before they all recovered and I’m sure a couple of them did not recover but the experience was magnificent and not to be forgotten. While doing rose and thorn that night, our butterfly hospital was everyone’s rose.

We’ve given up a lot—our normal house, our normal school, our everyday existence. We’ve also gained a lot and on this day we gained a moment to give back to the Creator, to offer safe haven to His littlest creations. It was beautiful.