I'm Going To Fly

In September 2010, I wrote a journal entry entitled, Lessons from a Butterfly. I wanted to share it with all of you, because I couldn't have imagined how hard the process of dying would be or the peace that comes from being nestled in the safety of a cocoon.  My anticipation for flying has never been greater.  I know now that it will happen--and soon.  The caterpillar is becoming a butterfly.  And this total transformation is nothing short of a miracle from God.

Lessons from a Butterfly
By Julie Garner
September 8, 2010

For the past few weeks we have been watching a caterpillar transform into a butterfly.

The kids and I would watch the yellowish-green, white and black striped caterpillar crawl around on his milkweed leaf; nibble away at the very foundation for his many tiny, little legs; and sometimes do nothing at all. We were fascinated by his every move, which was a bit ridiculous since basically he just ate, slept and pooped...and we had to feed him and clean his residency (a small peanut butter jar with holes). We named him Juan because, as the colder weather approaches, he will migrate to Mexico. We wanted him to feel a sense of belonging when he arrived.

We were elated when we discovered that, along with Juan's milkweed supply, we also inherited a teeny-tiny baby caterpillar. We named him Miguel. Miguel started out smaller than the width of my pinky nail. He was so small, I'm not even sure how we saw him in the first place. But it only took about 10 days for Miguel to grow into a full-sized caterpillar. By the time he had, Juan was already tucked safely into his cocoon--a process we missed seeing with our "first born" caterpillar.

On Tuesday morning, as we came down stairs for our breakfast, an amazing act of God was occurring right before our eyes. Miguel--our baby--was turning into his cocoon. We knew the time was approaching, because the night before he had gone to the top of the jar and hung upside down in a J-formation. His body dangled downward, while his face pointed upward.

As he went into his cocoon, he shook and shed his skin. The skin moved in an upward position and was--as if by "magic"--transformed into the chrysalis. When the skin reached the top, Miguel thrashed his body--now completely enveloped in the cocoon--back and forth, circling around so that his skin would become the very thing that created an anchor for him to hold securely to the top of the jar. And then everything went calm. No more movement. And, at that moment, I knew that Miguel was gone. Did you know the caterpillar actually dies? I didn't know that, until we began our butterfly lessons. He dies. There are only cells that live to create that pretty butterfly. We will not see Miguel again.

I found the whole experience to be both amazing and disturbing. I watched this creature that I had taken care of from birth just willingly pass before my eyes. He knew that better things were ahead of him, that he would soon reach his full (his best) potential. He worked hard for his death. He approached it with eagerness. And to think...he started his death in the shape of a J (for Jesus?), making sure that his face pointed upward. God's creations really were created to give Him glory...weren't they?

This morning, we were greeted with a beautiful Monarch Butterfly, opening and closing his intricate wings. While Miguel had just begun his transformation, Juan's was finally complete. He was BEAUTIFUL! I nearly got tears in my eyes when I saw him. And then I had to explain to a little boy that we couldn't keep him or he would die. He had to be set free. God had a plan for him, and it didn't include living in our home. He couldn't. God's plan for Juan was perfect and determined long before Juan was ever even a caterpillar. There was no other choice for Juan. He needed to be set free. So, all four Garners walked proudly out to our Crepe Myrtle bush and released our butterfly. I can't say he left willingly. It took some coaxing. And when he settled on a leaf, he clung to it--slowly opening and closing his gorgeous wings. He stayed there for hours. And then he was gone.

This butterfly experience was profound for me. I feel like I am living Juan and Miguel's story, in my own spiritual way. I can relate to the "good life" of sitting around, not being at my full potential, just eating, sleeping and...well...going to the bathroom. For me, life had somehow been boiled down to food. What would I eat next? When could I eat it? Could someone just put me on a pile of food, and leave me alone? And...unlike the monarch caterpillar who would rather starve than eat a leaf he doesn't like...I would eat anything that crossed my path. I doubled in size in a short amount of time. And I just kept eating.

But, when I confessed my sin and genuinely began to repent and seek God...I started hanging upside down in a J position as if to say "JESUS! Everything about this change starts by pointing my face toward you!" I can't imagine it's easy for a caterpillar to hang in the J position for 24 hours. I mean, in caterpillar-years, that's about 1/8 of their life spent in this position. All this to say, the J position is part of the process, and probably takes far longer than any of us would like it to take. But it is critical to remain low, while facing upward. No matter how long it takes.

And then there's the wretched process of shedding the skin...the putting off of the old self. The wiggling and writhing and contorting that occurs. It definitely appears to be a painful process. But it is a miracle, really. And nothing less. When you see it happening, it does appear to be "magic"; however, we know that there is nothing magical about it. It is purposeful--because God purposed it through Christ.

Then, the swirling and whirling that must occur in order to secure ourselves to the only "hook" (or anchor) that can hold us where we need to be. Do you know how small that caterpillar hook is? So small. But is is STRONG. It supports the weight of the entire process of metamorphosis that occurs. It withstands wind gusts and weather changes. It is small, but mighty. And it is critical. Without that hook, the entire process would end. If the cocoon isn't hanging, the butterfly will never hatch. The process is lost. My hook is Christ. The God who knit me and formed me, striped me down to nothing and then holds me secure. And I wait...

I die. And I wait. I die. But He lives. And I am transformed. The new self will look nothing like the old. But it will take 10 long days. Perhaps longer than the caterpillar ever lived. But it is peaceful. And change is happening.

Now the quick part occurs. It's literally like the blink of an eye. The butterfly emerges within minutes. It is a fast process. So fast, it is easy for others to miss.

The butterfly must be set free...and soon. The plans for him (or her) were already determined long before creation. The butterfly MUST fly. And only God knows how. And only God knows why. And only God could have done something so amazing and special.

I think I am now going safely into my cocoon. It has been a few years of hanging low while facing upward; then beginning the painful process of dying. But now I am beginning to sense the silence. I can feel the urgent need to hide away for a time, enveloped in the protection that only God could have created for me. I sense how still I will need to be for this change to occur. This phase could seem long...but change is happening.

It isn't easy to become a butterfly. But it also isn't hard. It means dying...then resting...and ultimately trusting. Trusting Christ for the final change to come.

And the change is coming.

I'M GOING TO FLY!