Butterfly

My darling child,

I know you are feeling lonely and invisible in there, in that quiet, little cocoon. Your siblings are so visible, their talents so evident, their accolades ringing in your ears. I know it feels sad, and you feel like no one can see you, and you feel left out. I know you wonder whether anyone will ever notice you. And it even feels like God might have forgotten where you are. It makes you wonder whether He even cares about these incredible yearnings in your heart. You know you are beautiful, He tells you so, but you wonder what is the point of any beauty if no one’s allowed to see it?

But I want to tell you a secret.

A caterpillar, if you look very closely, actually already has the identity of a butterfly. But it needs a little time in a cocoon to mature into what it really already is. You see, if it tried to fly before its wings had developed, it would fall. In fact, it might even hurt itself so much that it would never be able to fly when it really mattered. So God, in His wisdom, wraps it up safely where the magic can take place: where it can learn the secret lesson.

The lesson of glory.

It must learn to be in the place of being unseen, so that it can learn to look at its invisible Maker instead of at all the eyes that will soon be looking at it.

Because it will be called to shine:

“Let your light shine before men, so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)

Sweet child, you have to be hidden for a little while so that you can learn to be trusted with glory.

Glory is a thing too heavy for a creature to bear. There is only One strong enough to carry it. And when you are released from that cocoon, your beauty will be evident to all; but you will be light as a feather, so you will be able to fly.

Darling one, most of us wait decades for the gift of this learning. You are being allowed the very deep privilege of learning it so young. I believe that is because your Father in heaven, your Maker, is getting you ready for a very special task. He is preparing you to fly like a butterfly, precious child.

You keep your eyes on Him.

Soon it will be time to shine.

20150903-104823.jpg

Of Fractures and Fractions and Family Trees

20140709-162526.jpg

It is only now, almost 3 weeks after the hurt, that I recognize it as an answer to prayer.
Her pain has been severe enough, prolonged enough, that her exhaustion means she can no longer hold down the pain that comes bubbling up from underneath it, from long ago.
The sobs begin as a valve venting the physical ache, but as they gain momentum they are stops open and pipes roaring glorious organic truth, the beautiful mess of a young life lived: and they are no longer voicing a bodily broken bone but a fractured heart.
And as she moans it I see that my child’s pain is but a fraction of the fracture I have felt in that same fibia – the leg limping on a rug pulled out from under, and trying to make a stance that will be on solid ground.
She misses the childhood place, the soul’s connection, the loss of which she has not – till now – realized I have felt and mourned a hundredfold.
She sees it now, humble, compassionate; she hears an empathy in my voice and I see her mind curtsey gracious to it, elegant child that she is. She hears my heart speak through the moan that will not quite escape through this tightened throat, under the princess castle gauze of her mosquito net hung duskly.
Oh, my child, how thankful I am that this is all He is asking you – me – to give up! Of all that He could require for relinquishing… Only this? Praise Him.
And yet I acknowledge the pain. It is a grieving for a dying and He never promised it would not come to this. He only promised it would be worth it. He simply invites, ‘Follow Me.’
And those disciples, they dropped nets and they stepped into the shallows and didn’t turn back, not even when the shallows became depths which threatened to engulf. Then they walked on that water, overcomers, not undergoers. They followed Him, leaving EVERYTHING, and when they knew Him they knew that He. Is. Worth It.
Oh, dear heart, sweet child of mine, the ounce of pain in your eyes? It is an answer to my prayer. I knew it when I prayed it that it was a danger to you and to me, but I asked Him to do what it took to let you know Him and His worth. Gentle, gracious Father – that this is ALL it is: Thank You.
Oh Lord, don’t let it be wasted.
Bring her near now to Yourself.
I love her.
I love You.
Thank You that You knit her heart just like You knit her bone, and both of them together in my womb.
Thank You for showing me a fraction of the feel – of the Father’s hundredfold sacrifice mirrored in the child’s hundredth eyes.
God of Generations, God of recompense; pay it back now a hundredfold!
Glory to You now in the church and in the Tree.
In Jesus’ Name.
Amen.