The first time I raised butterflies, I was a month, maybe two fresh off watching my husband die. I had put myself back to work teaching Kindergarten because I desperately needed something normal. But who was I to fool myself that anything was normal? My brain was still a wall of fog. I remember my co teacher presenting me with a jar of caterpillars. Time to study insects. Thankfully I didn’t have to do anything to keep caterpillars alive. That same dear co teacher moved the chrysalides to the top of the butterfly habitat one day. Teaching students took all my ability to function. Taking care of insects was just too much.

It’s not lost to me that eleven years later the children who peer into the butterfly habitat bear some of my features, that an equally enthusiastic husband checks the chrysalides almost as much as they do, that the contrast to former days is sharply defined.

Eleven years ago… 

Despite the monumental effort to hold myself together for my Kindergarteners (I didn’t always), somewhere in the recesses of my mind I still held an affinity for a good, delicious word. You know, a delicious word— one that’s fun to say, and fun to understand, and makes a five year old sound like a genius. I liked to teach my kindergarten babies delicious words.

Metamorphosis.

How adorable it was to hear such a word repeated with lisps and missing Rs.

“Metamorphosis means to be changed into something totally new.”

“Now hold on a minute,” says the skeptic. “Another butterfly story? I mean, what an overused cliche!”

Keep reading dear skeptical friend. Perhaps this one has a twist.

My class eagerly watched our caterpillars eat, and eat, and eat. Of course, we read The Very Hungry Caterpillar. One day, we arrived to five tiny chrysalides attached to the top of the habitat. Then the waiting began. I admit, I didn’t really care about butterflies. But these sweet babies asked every day, “When will we have butterflies?”

They gazed in anticipation. But in childish clumsiness, one chrysalis was knocked to the bottom of the cage.

“Oh no! It will probably die!”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, there was one butterfly. The next day there were two. On the third day an excited, little voice squealed, “Mrs. Atkins! One is coming out now!” We crowded around to see, and to my surprise, it was the one I thought had died.

He wasn’t dead, just knocked down.

The struggle was intense. Lying on the bottom of the habitat, his fight was radically more difficult than that of his brothers. He had to battle for his very existence. We watched mesmerized, and I couldn’t voice the heavy thoughts forming behind teary eyes.

“He’s not going to make it. It’s too difficult. He was knocked down too far.”

“Oh God! This is me. I’m not going to make it.”

5 minutes. 10 minutes. 15 minutes.

He finally emerged, wings crumpled as if broken.

“How fitting. He lives, but is severely wounded, damaged forever.”

How utterly shocked was I when the butterfly finally unfolded his gorgeous, perfect wings in praise to his Creator! The significance was not lost.

That’s was me. I was knocked to the bottom of the cage, but perhaps God would transform my broken twisted frame into something marvelous. I left my assistant in charge, and had to take a moment to collect myself.

“My precious daughter, you will not be damaged beyond repair. Through Jesus I’ve already transformed you. Though the struggle is intense, I’m producing something gorgeous, something you cannot even comprehend.”

Do you ever feel like you’ve been knocked down too far? Do you think you are damaged beyond repair? Then hear these words of truth. Let them resonate deep within.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a NEW creation. The old has passed away; behold the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17

If you are redeemed by the finished work of Jesus, you are NEW. You are being transformed to be like Him, but you are also ALREADY transformed.

“We went through fire and water, yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance.” Psalm 66:12

You may have been through fire and water.  You may still be right in the middle of it. Perhaps like me, you long for the place of abundance. Well, it’s already here. Jesus is the abundant place. Because you are transformed, abundance is not circumstantial. You are in Christ.

The Present…

We’ve been on butterfly watch this week. And I admit I’ve had just as much anticipation as my children. 

One, two, three, four butterflies. Oh man we missed it every time! These guys were fast. It occurred to me, that perhaps witnessing not one but two butterflies emerge eleven years ago was precise grace just for me. 

“Lord would you let us see at least one emerge from its chrysalis that we may see your glory? That I may recall your precise care?”

The chrysalis turned mahogany, a sure sign the butterfly would emerge at any moment. Looking closely I could see the pattern of the wing just underneath the surface of the chrysalis. 

We watched, and waited. I finally sent the children outside sensing the butterfly might need some quiet, like I did. 

Checking back a few minutes later, I caught a glimpse of bright orange wing. I rushed to the back door, “Guys hurry! Come quick the butterfly is coming out!” 

Little feet came running from outside, big feet pounded upstairs from the office. We crowded around just in time to see it unfold perfect wings. I breathed a prayer of thanks and worship to the one who made it. 

Did you know that caterpillars turn mostly to goo inside the chrysalis? But did you know some research suggests they have memories of their lives as caterpillars? 

And yet miraculously they become something totally new and exquisite. What a truly amazing thing metamorphosis is. 

Of course I couldn’t see it then, broken and lying on the floor as I was. Of course I didn’t have the benefit of seeing the story arc unfold.

The second time I raised butterflies, I paused to imprint the scene on my heart — a tangle of arms and legs huddled around a kitchen table, peering intently. I paused to enjoy their joy. And it occurred to me that the gorgeous thing (at least in part), the thing I couldn’t even comprehend was this moment, this full and beautiful moment, this memory redeemed.