My son was given a butterfly kit for his birthday. It only took me a year to get around to ordering the already paid for larvae which would in turn become butterflies. The day finally came when they arrived and we had great excitement to see these little wonders in the jar. We followed the instructions and watched for the transformation to take place. I had no idea how it would affect me.

A few days after we received them, these little larvae became big caterpillars. But, it was their next phase that grasped my heart. They gravitated up to the top of the cup and spun their cocoons. Overnight our caterpillars turned into chrysalises.

As instructed, we took them out of the cup and hung them on the top of our little butterfly tent. And there they hung.

Quiet…

Patient…

Still…

Submitted…

And inside a beautiful transformation was taking place.

They were in our dining room, for us to observe. As I would walk by umpteen times a day, they were
still there.

I was reproved, challenged, awed and convicted.  I was humbled, really.

Humbled and quieted.

There was something so amazingly beautiful about these cocoons. And it was a teachable moment for me, which I sought to capture to share with my children in family worship.

What did the Lord have for me in the viewing of these creatures?

• They were patient in affliction.
• They were quiet in being shaped into the image God had for them.
• They were content to have their freedom taken away to be transformed.
• They did not chafe under the prison of the confinement, but submitted, hanging there..still.
• They did not seek to come out of their restraint until the perfect time..till the work the Lord had for them was finished.
• They waited for God to do His beautiful work in them.

The morning came when we walked into the dining room and there was a beautiful butterly. My heart rejoiced with that little creature. I think I could identify with her somewhat. It was so gratifying in an odd sort of way.

The other crysallis was still in her confinement. But, in the jostling it fell from the top of the tent. We tried to prop it up, could feel her movement underneath the skin of the cocoon but did not know if she would make it. We rehung her hoping it was not too late. I wanted so badly to help her out of the shell, but unless a butterfly struggles on their own, they will not live. As the day wore on, it appeared that our second little butterfly was dead.

Again, in an odd sort of way, it made me feel so sad. How could I become so attached to these would be butterflies?

And then, to our delight and surprise, the second butterfly emerged!

Oh, the happiness I felt! And the analogy again came into my heart.

• In order to be born again, we die first.
• We die to our sin and self.
• We are raised again to life in Christ.

How often can we become dismayed and lose hope thinking a loved one is so spiritually dead that there will never be spiritual life. And then, the Lord surprises us and powerfully turns their hearts in a beautiful and saving way!

I have to let my children struggle in their walk with the Lord. Let’s face it, as mothers we want to ease every pain, take away every hurt. But, we cannot do it for them. And it is in the struggle that they are transformed.

The life cycle of a butterfly is only a couple of weeks. We let them go one morning and they flew away into freedom.

“Goodbye little butterflies! Thank you for teaching us more of the Lord’s work in your short little life.”

Thank you Lord, for giving us so many displays of your glory in your creation!