Thursday, October 7, 2010


My favorite place to go in the zoo is the butterfly habitat. I can remember the first time I had ever gone in such a place. It was warm, moist, and serene. The place was not crowded, and the few people who were there seemed to whisper so as not to disturb the peaceful home of our lovely, winged friends.

I love the fact that the butterflies are so freely at home in this warm, sheltered environment, and fly around you as if to say "Welcome! Isn't it beautiful here? Stay a while and look around!" During my most recent visit, the butterflies would even land on hands, hats, or t-shirts of the people in the passing crowds.

This past summer, I was at the zoo with our family and some friends and I took this picture of a majestic butterfly in all her glory. I love the colors in this picture, but I was somehow led to a different thought recently. Metamorphosis. I teach this process in school. I know what it means, what it entails, and can even name the various stages of its evolution. However, after someone mentioned to me that she thought I had been going through a sort of spiritual metamorphosis, I thought long and hard about the process.

A while ago, the stages in my life had begun to morph into this haze of doubt and question and I was astonished, to be honest. Things I thought I knew were seemingly unraveling and I started construction on my cozy cocoon. I love warmth. I love big sweaters and fuzzy socks this time of year, and I love emotional security just the same. It feels warm to me. It's what I want, inside and out, yet I was chilled to the bone and couldn't get warm. I was sure that my chrysalis would keep me safe and sound.

It's funny how apathy works as a buffer sometimes, but that's exactly what my chrysalis did. It buffered out the cold and kept me apathetic for the most part, but scared and suspicious too. I was always preoccupying myself with its construction, all the while keeping an eye out for danger of any penetration of my secure place.

And one day, I realized that this cocoon was not my shelter from the world, but a preparing place for me to changed. A hard, exhausting process by which I would morph into something I could not even imagine. For there was One person from whom I can not hide. Psalm 139:8 "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I feel almost as if I didn't even know Him before, not like I could have. As if it was all new. This metamorphosis in me may have been brought about because of my apathy, my mistakes, my shortcomings, and even my doubt; but what allowed me to see that I could break free of this constricting house of solitude is that there was a plan all along. As the fuzzy little caterpillar may crawl to its nearby destiny, be thrust into a constrictive prison of self-metamorphosis, and then break free to flights that can cross a continent; so I was meant to morph from babe, to gangly miss, to woman who must break free from binds of self-doubt and condemnation to soar where wings of hope and purpose may take her!

I didn't start this blog to do anything more than share my thoughts, but I hope that if you are reading this, you see that whether you are a caterpillar, in your warm, constrictive cocoon, or soaring above to new heights and lands you haven't yet seen; that you, as I have, experience the joy that comes with knowing that this stage is for your good.

Romans 8:28 "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."


  1. You were meant to soar! What a beautiful truth, full of grace and hope from a beautiful pure callilly full of joy and a song. I love you!

  2. love you too, Jules! You inspire me! <3