Becoming a Butterfly

This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a few weeks now. Not wanting to paint half a picture, I am taking my time with this particular post.

There is a misconception in the world of metaphor, it's a misconception to me at least. And because I am a "picture" thinker I feel the need to dissect an idea to the point that I can see every detail from every angle, even though every angle isn't always necessary to explain. I promise, I think about them all. Whether or not these pictures come out clearly as words, well that's a different story. But like an artist I come back to these ideas over and over again and touch up until I'm satisfied with the total "picture." And so you will now be privy to one of these pieces of art.

There are many comparisons for girls turning into women. Flowers, butterflies etc. My thing is butterflies. The saying goes "If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies." Now I believe most people think that young women bloom into roses at 16 and morph into butterflies at 20. I would disagree. I think that teenagers are grubs that turn into caterpillars and stay caterpillars until much later. Now most of you may have gotten a chuckle out of that little thought, and no I am not irritated with, nor do I have any issues with any teenager currently. It's just an analogy that, as I said, has been bouncing around in my head for a while.
Teenagers are constantly feeding, not literally, (well OK some do but that isn't where I'm going with this... FOCUS people) I'll do this from my own self-analyzing perspective. As a teenager my focus was ME. Of course. Everything I did, saw, said, experienced was all about me and how it affected me. Everything I did, saw, said, experienced was feeding me. Not unlike the little caterpillar who spends its whole existence eating everything in its path. Not with the intent of doing damage, but with the purpose of growing. Growing in preparation of change. Now I am almost positive that there is not one young caterpillar who is munching through a tasty green leaf thinking "I am going to become a beautiful butterfly, therefore I must eat...everything" I think it is a matter of survival, for young caterpillars. As my analytical caterpillars grow they become more careful with their choice of food. They don't eat as often or in the same panicked manner as the youngin's. They are wiser in general and are often filled with interesting perspectives that they gained from eating so much when they were younger. The next step in *real* caterpillars would be to build a cocoon. (actually moths spin cocoons, butterflies are called a chrysalis in the pupa state. But for the sake of the *picture* I am trying to portray we'll call it a cocoon. Nobody wants to be a moth...) Now here is where the metaphor in my mind differs from what would be expected. Some would say that this teenage caterpillar becomes a beautiful butterfly because she is in her 20's or somewhere close. No longer a child and not an old woman. She gets married to a nice monarch, they have eggs. Then her life is over and there you go. I don't think it works that fast in that way. It has taken me almost 13 years to realize that all I have been doing is spinning my cocoon. Each child has created another protective layer, inside of which I am growing and changing...into what? I hope a beautiful butterfly. The most beautiful butterflies I have ever seen are not 20, they're not even 30. They are the *mature* butterflies that have shed their cocoon (their children have grown and some have gone.) And they are left to show the beautiful colors they grew inside of that cocoon they were in for so very long. They are the ones that have learned from experience about babies and bumps and bruises and broken bones and broken dishes. They have cleaned and groomed, hugged and loved, birthed, breathed and some have buried. They know that maternal heartache that comes only from motherhood. That fierce love and devotion and need to protect. They have wisdom beyond this world. A wisdom that speaks to our souls and reminds us, very reverently of truths past, present and future. They remind us that there isn't just one watching out for us...but two. They are the butterflies that know it's OK to pick up someone's crying baby while its mother's arms are busy with someone else. They know how to survive. They know what it's like to need to lock yourself in your bedroom because "mommy needs a time out." They have prayed for, bled for, sacrificed all for. And even after they have shed their cocoon they are still sacrificing for others. But at this stage it doesn't seem like a sacrifice to them. They spread their wings and show their colors with grace.
I have been struggling with my position in life. I have been a professional child bearer for 13 years. It was my job, it's what I did. I was good at it. Not being pregnant, I was terrible at that. Much to whiny. Much to uncomfortable. I'll admit that I loved feeling those babies move. And the closeness I felt to their daddy. We're finished though. I have been released from that calling. I am very grateful for how gracious Heavenly Father has been with me. And how patient he has been especially when I was a young caterpillar. I am grateful for the lessons he teaches me through the raising process of these children he has given me charge over. There is a perspective that can only be gained from being a parent. It's in part, His perspective.
This little analogy is one of those perspectives. As young women and even not so young women we often observe these older women as being tired, or uninteresting, or old, or rambly(some do ramble, but so do I, have you noticed?) It's not until we get past our young caterpillarness that we can see these gorgeous butterflies for what they are. And we have to pay close attention to see their colors. Some may seem faded but that's because we're not looking at them in the right light. I know there are caterpillars out there that know and appreciate these butterflies. I didn't, however, until I was almost finished spinning my cocoon. It wasn't until I asked "Now what am I? What do I do? What do I become? and how?" The answers are there in these butterflies.

Now so as to not offend, I must address the issue of those older caterpillars. Some of my very good friends and relations are still caterpillars, some by choice, others by no fault of their own. I love them all very much, no less than these butterflies I've been watching for years. They are just in a different stage of progression, and that is OK. I am grateful to know that they will all have the opportunity to build their cocoons and become butterflies, too.

It's been an interesting little picture that has been derived from the deep recesses of my head. I think the little lady had to dig a while for it, but it is out now. And I think I am satisfied with how it all came out. I may make some amendments later. But for now...

Good day to ya.