As I pulled into the parking lot this morning to pick up Hudson from pre-school, I could see him jumping with excitement on the other side of the window.  He was smiling as big as the sun and could hardly wait to tell me his news.  Apparently, their butterflies had hatched.  The caterpillars they had been caring for had broken free and a giant net in their classroom was now filled with beautiful butterflies.  Except for one.  A tiny cocoon hung in the back corner of the net still waiting – still struggling – to emerge.

“It’s okay, Mommy.  That one just needs a little bit more time”, Hudson whispered.

And while all the kids huddled around the newly created butterflies…I couldn’t help but wonder about the one that was still waiting.  The one that was still working to break free…

I recently finished reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s novel The Signature of All Things.  A beautiful reminder of the innate desire in all of us to connect…to belong…to do something meaningful with our lives.  One of my most favourite paragraphs of the entire book is during one of the final chapters;

“Those who are ill-prepared to endure the battle for survival should perhaps never have attempted living in the first place.  The only unforgivable crime is to cut short the experiment of one’s own life before its natural end.  To do so is a weakness and a pity – for the experiment of life will cut itself off soon enough, in all our cases, and one may just as well have the courage and the curiosity to stay in the battle until one’s eventual and inevitable demise.  Anything less than a fight for endurance is cowardly.  Anything less than a fight for endurance is a refusal of the great covenant of life.”

I read that paragraph over and over again…letting the words sink in and inspire me.  I let them infuse every fiber of my being and hopefully, take on a life of their own.  Because endurance in this life can be hard and tiring and discouraging.  The world is big and our lives can be even bigger.  But as I watched the last remaining cocoon, I wondered.  I wondered if it knew what was happening?

In the grand scheme of things…God was taking this precious little caterpillar…and giving it wings.  God was taking this beautiful creation of His…and making it fly.  Something so incredibly remarkable…but first, it needed to be alone.  With God.  I can only assume that there is tension happening in that cocoon.  A struggle.  A fight for survival.  And though it’s all in the name of some spectacular…it must feel very dark and lonely at the time.

I have felt that darkness and loneliness at times.  I have felt that tension and that struggle.  I have felt like everyone around me is flying free while I remain trapped by my own creation.  And it’s not an easy place to be.

But that’s not where I am right now.  I’m not residing with that same struggle or suffocating from my own limitations.  But I’m not quite ready to soar yet either.  There is just something unfamiliar about this new place in my life; the space…the possibilities…the depths of the new world I find myself living in.

Just as these thoughts floated through my mind, the teachers called the kids away from the netting.  Explaining to them that these new butterflies were actually living through their most vulnerable state.  A state that determined whether they would launch out into the heavens or whether their wings would wilt away leaving them to never fly at all.  It turns out that these beautiful creatures needed space and time to discover to their new selves.  After being confined for so long…they needed to let their wings dry out and take a look around.  They needed to breathe…they needed to heal…they needed to be ready to take on what the world had to offer.  And letting go too soon actually meant that they may forever be tethered to the ground.

It seems that – even in nature – soaring to new heights can’t be rushed…

Seeing the butterflies makes me wonder if this is all part of the struggle…all part of the great tension of life.  It makes me wonder what’s about to happen next.  Because that caterpillar is fighting for its endurance.  And though it likely feels dark and lonely in that place all by itself…it’s still in there with God.  It’s fighting with God…it’s struggling with God…it’s surviving with God.  And pretty soon…it’s going to have wings.  It’s going to see the world from a whole new perspective.  It’s going to go places that never would have been possible had it not been for the darkness.

The darkness was necessary.  The darkness was essential.  The darkness was part of the plan.

But now the darkness is over.

And we – the butterflies and I – are getting used to our wings.

We are reaching and stretching to see how much space we actually have.  We are planning our next moves.  We are preparing ourselves for the divine beauty that comes after every great struggle.

We – the butterflies and I – are getting ready to fly…