waiting. while God transforms. just as a caterpillar is blanketed in a protective cocoon while it reconstructs itself into a butterfly, i am enveloped in this season of transformation. growing my soul cannot happen swiftly or without pain in the dark of night. i resent God for not accomplishing His task in me & pjm double-quick. our culture demands it fast-trains traveling like supersonic bullets, glue adhering immediately, nail polish drying instantly, espresso providing a quick-fire afternoon pick-me-up, and fast meals served out of a window into our autos. God works at His pace. many in the bible were stuck in seasons of waiting, and it is in the wait that God's deepest soul growing occurs. my heart flows with contempt admitting this. it forces me to realize there is more growing for me to accomplish. like damn it God. am i not a big enough girl already? but if i have to ask, the answer begets itself...obviously, no. there is deeper soul growing He needs to complete in my impatient ass.
while that caterpillar is within that cocoon, it turns to liquid and then somehow gels itself in to a stunning butterfly. imagine popping open that chrysalis & liquidy caterbutterpillarfly dripping out. a halt in nature-not allowing what was purposely started to reach its full potential. i, too, am swathed in an envelope of protection while God does his transforming work in me. every cell in my body wants to bust open that silky cocoon and announce this girl is DONE already, but instead i must find a pause-moment of still and refocus my trust back on God and his perfect timing. science says the ugliest of cocoons, reveal the most beautiful of butterflies. this cocoon of dementia & death are pretty damn ugly.
dear cocoon.
i appreciate your protection during this transformation.
i love that i can meander through life,
instead of being hung in a silk bag by my feet from the branch of a tree.
i am thrilled your invisible silk pouch is one of great strength,
containing this wild-hearted, impatient-assed girl.
i would hate to slash you with my restlessness
and ooze out drippy wife of demented dying man all over my carpet.
sincerely-
butterfly in the making
p.s. moths come from cocoons too.
please don't let me spend the balance of my life swarming around a stranger's porch light.
 |
| do these wings make my impatient ass look big-or perhaps it's because of the white shorts after labor day? actually-who the hell cares. not i said the butterfly. |
