People always talk about the beautiful transformation of the caterpillar into the butterfly. It is phenomenal, it is natural, and it is a sight to behold. When the caterpillar emerges and takes flight it is a beautiful thing and most times the focus of our long loved proverbial sayings. What people often skip is the process of transformation. No matter how natural it is, to completely change and transform from the inside out, to sprout wings from a substance unseen; it cannot be done entirely without great courage and yes, pain.
It is not easy to leave your comfort zone and shift the inner makings of who you thought you were to become; while at the same time realizing that your cocoon is shrinking and forcing you to transform into what you were meant to convert into all along. There is a moment of suspension between two worlds, a fine delicate crosshair in life. In the end change of some sort is inevitable, perhaps it is allowing ourselves to let change take place without fighting it. Perhaps some butterflies emerge unscathed, complete and whole. Yet there are those who struggle and emerge with scarred and tattered wings. Those blemishes and scars carry with them the outward confession of their love of two worlds…to gain one you must leave the other behind.
In the midst of transformation it can be very scary and painful. It can be difficult to refrain from striking out and hurting others, as we fight to understand the path before us. Mankind seems to have this innate desire to know where they are going, what they are doing and who they are becoming. Personally for me, during certain transformations of my life, the conversions were resisted immensely and I did not leave unscathed. Yet God was working in my life, in ways that I could not see from inside this cocoon. Outwardly I was still hurting and mourning and angry with the world around me consumed in my own bitterness because life had not given me the natural opportunities I felt I deserved. Though there was not a pivotal moment that changed my life around, somewhere in the darkness I found peace, and I allowed it to consume me. This process took almost a decade, but I could feel the walls around me shifting and cracking. The light and warmth of the sun began to peek in and I felt the urge to expand.
How can a caterpillar do that? In some ways I still felt I was bound, but I had this urge to magnify beyond the capacity of what I still perceived as self, and in that moment I realized I had grown wings. The walls around me broke and I emerged clumsily but hopefully. With my new found wings, I fluttered and as I ascended, I began to appreciate this old world through these new eyes. Though at times I can still see and feel the scars of my transformation, the exchange of knowledge, understanding and love that I gained is a gift I thank my Creator for every day.
April M. RedWing