Lily of the Valley Catholic Ministry

What a butterfly can teach us about death, transformation, and the promise of heaven.

On November 2, the Feast of All Souls, I found myself at school mass listening to a homily that was intended to help the children understand the beauty of the Hallowtide Triduum. Yet, as I sat in the pew, I found myself reflecting on a child whose transformation I will never forget.

As I looked at my two oldest sons sitting with their classmates, one dressed as a saint as part of his sacramental year of preparation, and my youngest sitting beside me, not yet school age, I couldn’t help but remember the little baby who once grew and grew inside my own motherly body.  My womb, which was both a place of life and, ultimately, a tomb, held my son until the day we delivered him into eternity. I often think about that sacred transition: how the little boy whose body carried genetic deficits, a malformed heart and brain, skeletal deformities, clubbed feet, and scoliosis was no longer defined by any of those things. I imagine him transformed, no longer sluggish and limited by his physical body in utero, but a magnificent and beautiful soul, like a butterfly taking flight.

It was this image that made Fr. Larry Searles’ homily on All Souls’ Day particularly moving. With the permission of Fr. Larry, I am sharing his reflection, which uses something as ordinary as a caterpillar to help us understand something as extraordinary as the promise of eternal life.

The Transformation of a Butterfly
Fr. Larry began by describing the remarkable transformation that takes place when a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. When a caterpillar reaches maturity, it finds a safe branch or stem, attaches itself with a small silk pad, and hangs upside down in the shape of a J. It sheds its outer skin one final time, revealing a soft shell called a chrysalis, which soon hardens.

Inside the chrysalis, something extraordinary happens. Much of the caterpillar’s body breaks down into a protein-rich substance, while special cells survive and begin building entirely new structures: wings, antennae, legs, and the other features of an adult butterfly.

After approximately one to two weeks, the chrysalis becomes transparent, and the butterfly emerges. Its wings are initially soft, wet, and crumpled. The butterfly hangs upside down, pumping fluid into its wings until they expand, dry, and strengthen. Finally, it takes flight.

Fr. Larry explained why God might have left such an extraordinary process in nature:

“God has left in nature this process of transformation so we can better understand what has happened to those who have died.”

A Message from the Butterfly
Fr. Larry invited the children to imagine what it might be like if they were caterpillars.

Imagine that you had a caterpillar friend who one day disappeared into a chrysalis. You never saw that friend again. But then, one day, a beautiful butterfly came and landed on a branch beside you.

What if that butterfly was your friend, transformed?

Fr. Larry imagined what the butterfly might say:

“I have been transformed into a butterfly by our heavenly Father.
I no longer have to climb trees, because I can now fly over the whole wood and beyond.

I no longer eat leaves, but rather I delight in the nectar that oozes from the most beautiful flowers.

I no longer fear birds, because the markings on my wings scare birds away because they think I am a hawk trying to eat them!

You too will become like me, but for now I send you to the needy caterpillars.

Tell them about me, and let them know that they, too, will one day soar on wings over all the earth, and dine on nectar with no fear of being eaten by birds.”

What a beautiful image of the promise of heaven!  Fr. Larry brought the analogy back to our own lives:

“We are not caterpillars, but this is our story.  Just like the caterpillars could never imagine the life that awaits them as butterflies, nor can we imagine the life that Jesus has given us by his death and resurrection.”

How often do we try to imagine heaven through the limitations of our earthly lives? We understand what it means to walk, to work, to struggle, to experience illness, and to carry the burdens of our physical bodies. But how could we possibly comprehend the fullness of the life that awaits us? Our earthly existence is not the end of our story.

The Tomb Could Not Hold Him
The butterfly’s transformation offers a glimpse into the hope of our own resurrection, but Fr. Larry brought the children back to the most important part of our faith: Jesus Christ.
He continued:

“Jesus’ silk pocket was the tomb, but Jesus’ tomb could not hold him. Jesus is alive. He has resurrected. He announces to us that we will all be transformed, not from caterpillars to butterflies, but from weak and sometimes frightened people, into beings outshining the glory of the angels. That is the promise God makes to each and everyone of you today.”

The resurrection is the foundation of our hope. Christ has conquered death, and through Him, we are promised eternal life.
This is the beautiful connection between the celebrations of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. On November 1, the Church honors all those who have attained the glory of heaven, including the countless saints whose names we may never know. On November 2, we remember and pray for the faithful departed, entrusting those undergoing purification to God’s mercy.
The saints remind us of the destination. Purgatory reminds us that God’s invitation to heaven is also an invitation to be made holy.

And that brings us to a question Fr. Larry posed to the children: What exactly is purgatory?

Preparing for the Wedding Feast
Fr. Larry explained purgatory through the image of a wedding feast.

“What is the purgatory thing? It is the place where we prepare to meet the King at the wedding feast.”

He invited the children to imagine being personally invited by a king to a magnificent feast. You have just finished running a race. You arrive sweaty, tired, and in need of cleaning up. Although you have been invited and welcomed, you still need to prepare yourself for the occasion.

“That means that, while we are invited personally by the King to the feast, being sweaty from having just come in from running a race, we need to clean ourselves off and dress ourselves formally as the encounter merits.”

Fr. Larry explained that some people spend their earthly lives preparing for that very encounter. They strive to live holy lives, turn away from sin, receive the sacraments, serve others, and continually seek to grow closer to God.

“Some people already in life cleaned themselves up nicely before they entered heaven. They were wonderfully dressed for the wedding in anticipation of the wedding they knew was coming. These are the saints.”

Purgatory is not a second chance at heaven or a place outside of God’s mercy. It is the final purification of those who die in God’s grace but still need to be made perfectly holy before entering into the fullness of heaven.

The Church teaches us that we are all called to holiness. We are all called to become saints. We do not have to wait until the end of our lives to begin preparing for our eternal home.

Keep Running the Race
As Fr. Larry brought his homily to a close, he left the children with a simple quote:

“The most important thing is that you keep running the race!! God will supply the rest!”

What a beautiful reminder for all of us.  We are called to live as though we are preparing to meet our King. To make good choices. To turn away from sin. To receive the sacraments. To love our neighbors, serve those in need, and continually seek God’s will. Not because we can earn our way into heaven, but because we love the One who has already prepared a place for us.

And when we stumble, we get back up. When we fall short, we seek His mercy. We keep running the race, trusting that God will supply what we lack.

For the Families Who Carry Their Little Ones to Heaven
As I listened to this homily, I couldn’t help but think of the families who have entrusted their babies to God’s care through Lily of the Valley Catholic Ministry.

For so many of the families we serve, their child’s earthly life was lived entirely within the womb. They never watched their baby take a first breath, open their eyes, or stretch their little fingers (other than may on an ultrasound).

They may have held their child for only a few moments, or perhaps never had the opportunity to hold them at all.And yet, these children were here. They were known, loved, and created by God..  For parents who have experienced prenatal diagnosis, miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, the physical limitations and suffering of their child’s body can become an especially heavy part of their grief. We remember the diagnoses, the abnormalities, the surgeries that never came, and the milestones that never had the opportunity to unfold.
But the butterfly reminds us that the physical body is not the entirety of who we are.

As I think about my own son, Colin, I return to the image of his little body, which I carried within me until we delivered him into eternity. I think about the transformation that took place beyond what my eyes could see. The little boy whose body was so affected by his genetic condition is not defined by those limitations in my imagination of him in heaven. I picture him free from the physical suffering that accompanied his earthly life, magnificent and beautiful, like a butterfly finally taking flight.
I will never know the fullness of heaven while I remain here on earth. None of us can fully comprehend the glory God has prepared for us.

But I can hold fast to the hope of the Resurrection and entrust my son to the love and mercy of our Heavenly Father.Perhaps this is one of the gifts of the Hallowtide Triduum: All Saints’ Day reminds us of the glory for which we are made. All Souls’ Day reminds us to pray for those who have gone before us. And both invite us to consider how we are living today.
We are not yet at the wedding feast. We are still running the race.  May we run it well, with our eyes fixed on Christ, and may we help one another along the way.

And to the families who carry the memory of a little one in their hearts: may the image of the butterfly offer a small glimpse of the hope that is ours through Christ. Our earthly story is not the end.

Reflection by Whitney Whitmore based on the homily of Fr. Larry Searles, November 2, 2026.

 

A Latte

I was poring over the Scripture readings from my son’s funeral when my latte arrived with a heart cradled by angel wings.

I was preparing for Episode 59: The Gift of Time with a Life-Limiting Diagnosis on the It’s Not for Nothing Podcast with Elizabeth Leon from Red Bird Ministries.

The questions were: How do you pray for a miracle and simultaneously surrender to God? How do you plan for birth while planning a funeral? How do you carry both hope and fear?

As I sat reflecting on the ebb and flow of my pregnancy with Colin, I recalled the affirmations that came to my heart and mind when anxiety would wake me in the night. The Living Word would comfort me through wrote scripture and song.  Scripture that I had committed to memory as a child and songs I’ve sang in church my whole life became my mantra in the dark. 

He would say, “Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me, and I will give you rest.”

And I would pray: “Here I am, Lord. It is I, Lord. I have heard You calling in the night. I will go, Lord, where You lead me. I will hold Your people in my heart.”

I would ask, “Christ, be the light. Shine in our hearts. Shine through the darkness.”

And He would reassure me:

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”
Jeremiah 1:5

I knew that “even though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I would fear no evil, because my shepherd was with me.”
Psalm 23

And as Colin’s heart started to slow, and his kidneys started to fail, and we felt his last kicks and hiccups… as my own body started to become weak and fail me in my ability to walk… as I cried out to my medical team through pain and tears, “My baby is going to die!”…

I was reminded:

“Do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. Since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16–18

Colin was “on earth, as it is in heaven.”

And heaven drew so near that it was breathtaking.

His presence was so bright that all I could do was burst into laughter at the joy in the room. We were overcome with a love so big that it seemed to shield his deficits.  It was sacred ground. And we spoke in whispers as we delivered him to the Lord. It was almost as if his body brought the unseen world to life.  His body was love made visible.

Love Made Visible

Perhaps that is why the timing of this reflection feels so fitting.  October may be one of my favorite months. It is so full of opportunities to live out our faith and liturgical living becomes our road map this month as we navigate the fullness of grief through the light of our faith. 

As September came to a close, the Church celebrated the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, the Archangels.  The names of the three archangels we celebrate on September 29th, all end in “-el,” a Hebrew element meaning “of God.”

Richard McBrien wrote, “Angels remind us that there is more to the created order than what we actually see, feel, hear, and taste.”

Scripture reminds us that the angels are not simply beautiful figures we place on Christmas cards. They are part of God’s heavenly army, and St. Michael and his angels are depicted battling the dragon in Revelation.  September 29th, traditionally known as Michaelmas, is a seasonal marker that falls as summer gives way to autumn, the leaves begin to change, and the natural world reminds us that one season is ending as another begins.  What was once green begins to fade and die. What seemed full of life begins to surrender to another season. And yet, there is still beauty.  There is still something happening that we cannot fully see.

At Mass recently, I was reminded by our priest of what we say in the Nicene Creed. Particularly,

“I believe in one God,
the Father almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all things visible and invisible…

and

….We look forward to the resurrection of the dead,
and to life in the world to come. Amen.

I contemplate the invisible often when I think about Colin.  Not that I’ve ever considered him an angel (they are separate beings, whereas humans were created in the image and likeness of God). He made me very aware that we live in a world that is so much bigger than what our senses can perceive.

And we are not given only archangels. We have individual guardian angels.

As we transitioned into October, the Church celebrated the Memorial of the Holy Guardian Angels on October 2. The Church invites us to remember that God gives His angels to guard us and guide us. In Exodus, God tells His people:

“See, I am sending an angel before you, to guard you on the way and bring you to the place I have prepared. Be attentive to him and heed his voice.”
Exodus 23:20–21

There is something worth pondering in that language: be attentive.

Perhaps we are not always meant to see the ways God is protecting, guiding, and accompanying us.  Perhaps we are simply meant to become more attentive to His promptings.

To the gentle nudge.

To the unexpected peace.

To the person who calls at exactly the right moment.

To the prayer that suddenly comes to mind.

To the latte with a heart cradled by angel wings.

To the little signs of heaven that remind us to fix our eyes on what is unseen. 

Perhaps that is our role as faithful believers in Christ. To be attentive to the invisible so that we can outwardly reflect a Love Made Visible.

Mary knows both hope and fear

And then, on October 7, we celebrate Our Lady of the Rosary.  I love that this feast falls within this month.  Mary, the Mother of Sorrows and the Queen of Angels.

Mary, too, said yes to a difficult pregnancy.

She received a life she could not fully understand and surrendered herself to the will of God.

She carried Jesus within her.

She watched Him suffer and die.

She held him in his death and prepared him for burial.

And … she witnessed the joy of His Resurrection.

Mary knows what it means to carry both hope and fear.

She knows what it means to surrender a beloved child to the Father.

And she remains an advocate in prayer, interceding for us alongside the saints.

Perhaps this is why the Rosary feels particularly fitting in October. As we move through the mysteries of Mary’s life, we are invited to contemplate the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and to remember that sorrow is not the end of the story.

Carrying One Another

As a loss ministry, October is one of our busiest months of the year. Annually, more than 87% of our work goes to supporting families who have experienced a recent loss.

This month is full of lifting those families up in prayer as we continue to personalize and hand write letters for prayer care package fulfillment; prepare and rehearse to provide education and spread awareness at conferences, in Mass announcements, on blogs, across social media, and on-air; and record podcasts and videos to help the Church better accompany families in grief.

I am reminded in the book of Galatians why we are here:

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” –Galatians 6:2

And:

“Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”
Galatians 6:8–10

We believe in life from conception until natural death. And we believe in everlasting life.

I believe that through the Sacrament of Marriage, and in unity with God, we not only co-created a life, but we co-created a love.

A love that was tangible and real. And THAT love is a part of us that already lives eternal life.That love is real and we felt that love kicking. I delivered love. We held love in our hands.  Colin was love made visible.

Towards the end of October, we will approach the Vigil of the Solemnity of All Saints (All Hallows Eve). Perhaps this October we can let ourselves ponder the invisible a little more.

Let us pray our Rosaries for the dead.

For the saints who go unnamed.

For the innocent and sinless souls that we created, but said goodbye to in this life.

Let us remember that heaven is not far away.

That the Church is bigger than what we can see.

That we are surrounded by a communion of saints, accompanied by angels, covered in Mary’s prayers, and held by the love of Christ.

And every once in a while…

that invisible love may show up in a latte.

This post was written in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (2026) by Whitney Whitmore, Founder and Executive Director of LOTV Ministry.

 

There is something about Easter that holds both ache and beauty in the same breath.

During this past season of lent we have been reminded again and again of our mission: to walk with families in the valley. To sit with them in the unknown, to offer light in places that feel unbearably dark, and to witness the quiet, courageous love that blooms even in sorrow.

The image of the lily of the valley has never felt more fitting.

We often speak of this flower as a symbol of hope, joy, light, and beauty that blossoms after walking through a valley of darkness. But what we later learned deepened that meaning even more: lily of the valley is also called “Mother of Tears.” Tradition holds that these delicate blooms sprang up at the foot of the Cross—where Mary stood, suffering and mourning the death of her Son.

Tears that touched the ground.
Sorrow that gave way to something living.

In a beautiful and providential way, we also came to learn from the daughter of Saint Gianna Beretta Molla that lily of the valley was her mother’s favorite flower—their family flower. A flower tied to both purity and death. Found in wedding bouquets and funeral arrangements alike. It felt, unmistakably, like the name chosen for this ministry had been placed long before we ever spoke it aloud.

Because this is the tension we live in:
Life and loss.
Joy and sorrow.
Death and resurrection.

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day can be difficult and stressful times for parents whose children are in their hearts and in heaven. Here are some ways to help your suffering heart during these difficult days when those with children on Earth are given extra attention.

As Co-Founder and Director of Mission for Lily of the Valley Catholic Ministry (LOTV), I want to share how your kindness and mercy has helped us grow from a small parish ministry into a nationwide source of prayer and comfort for families facing difficult early life circumstances. Read more to learn about our upcoming yearly retreat and how donor support has made an impact on changing the social script for families walking through infertility, prenatal diagnosis, postnatal medical challenges, and pregnancy or infant loss.

Hi! I’m Katie. My journey with Lily of the Valley Ministry began through a special statue of the pregnant Virgin Mary. This statue had been a source of comfort during my own pregnancies. When I heard of Whitney walking with her son who had a difficult prenatal diagnosis, I felt called to pass the statue on to her. Several years later we reconnected and I learned the statue has been with LOTV since its inception and continues to be a symbol of hope and grace watching over this ministry, which now touches hundreds of families, all under Mary’s mantle. I gradually became more involved as a prayer ambassador and now as Content Designer.

Hi, I’m Jamie-Lee Lavelle, a Catholic wife and mother. I have the incredible privilege of serving in my role as Prayer Care Package Support for Lily of the Valley, a ministry close to my heart that is dedicated to bringing God’s peace and healing to families experiencing profound grief and difficult early family life challenges.

In this role, I oversee the assembly and shipment of care packages that reach families across the United States who have been touched by infertility, prenatal diagnosis, pregnancy or infant loss, and postnatal medical challenges. Each package is thoughtfully curated and includes hand-crafted bracelets, handwritten letters, and a variety of prayer aids—all designed to provide comfort, hope, and a reminder of God’s enduring love during times of sorrow.

Hi! I’m Catherine. I am the Family Bereavement Support here at Lily of the Valley. I have the profound honor of walking with families who are currently journeying through grief after the loss of their child. For an entire year after their loss, Lily of the Valley sends families quarterly bereavement support through a series of books on grief, encouraging Scripture passages, and a personal letter all assuring families that their walk through the valley of grief need not be alone.

As we journey through the Advent and Christmas season, we are invited to reflect on the wondrous mystery of Christ’s birth. The star that guided the Magi to Jesus is a symbol of divine guidance, leading us closer to the light of God’s love.

We are thrilled to announce that Lily of the Valley has been awarded a Respect Life Grant from the Diocese of Raleigh! This generous grant will allow us to host our second retreat in 2025. Stay tuned for more details coming soon!

The Respect Life Grants were established in 2000 to support initiatives that affirm the dignity of all human life, from conception to natural death, and are made possible through the Bishops Annual Appeal. Thank you to all who donated to the BAA and thank you to Bishop Luis and the Diocese of Raleigh for your generosity and encouragement to keep working towards our mission and vision.