We all remember grade school science, and the remarkable journey of the caterpillar to the butterfly. And then we became teenagers, and formed our own protective cocoons of locked bedrooms and overamplified music in a desparate attempt to contain the massive mind and body upheavals within.
If only our own pupa stages had ended with that definitive metamorphosis to adulthood, where we emerged confidently from our shells to say, "Here I am, world. I'm me, and I rock."
Unfortunately, it's not so easy.
The chrysalis dragged on into college for most of us, despite our vain attempts to assume we had matured beyond all that. And when we did truly emerge from the darkness to dry our new wings in the warm sun, we learned that new skin can't erase old scars, and that having wings doesn't mean you know how to fly.
With time, we learn to navigate bit by bit, and the touch of the breeze against our cheeks confirms that our transformation is complete. And it's usually just in that moment of utmost confidence that we find ourselves faced with a new set of challenges strangely immune to the old remedies we had perfected.
We recognize the hard truth that, in fact, we were never the butterfly we thought we were. Rather we are once again the caterpillar - slow, ugly, and exposed - in need of a cocoon to shield us until we are once again skyworthy. Some of us our lucky, and the necessary growth is minor. Still others seem to grow again with speed, regardless of the obstacle. But somewhere along the way, almost all of us hit a growth cycle that is long, ugly, and brutally painful. Maybe it's a death, or a birth. A marriage, or a divorce. A job lost, or found.
Maybe it's building a new home from the scarred memories and flawed histories of past houses torn down from around you.
No matter the details, it is all in fact - life. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. The chrysalis is waiting. It's been here for a while.
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