I have become nearly obsessed with butterflies since my husband left. I didn’t think I was “into” them before, but I’ve noticed that quite a few of my household items have butterflies on them. So, I must have had some sort of an affinity for them pre-separation.
We rent an old house on a very dry, forested hill. The dirt is dead. You can’t grow anything. I’ve noticed absolute silence even in the mornings; there aren’t any birds singing. However, this past summer there was a profusion of butterflies at the base of our long, dirt driveway. Every time I pulled in the drive dozens and dozens of butterflies would flitter up, seemingly from nowhere, in front of my car. I loved coming home to this run down place and couldn’t wait for that flush of colorful wings to greet me.
I recall a friend from my teen years always wrote a particular poem on her Pee Chee and on notes to me. I have no idea where it came from, where she found it. It meant a lot to her though, and she shared it with me every chance she could. It read, “Do you suppose a caterpillar knows his future lies in butterflies?” As I’ve thought about Claudette’s favorite poem and pondered my driveway butterflies, it has almost seemed like some sort of illustrative lesson from God.
Today, God explained the lesson.
After my husband left and I could not afford the state mandatory testing for home schoolers, I enrolled my children in a public charter school. I still home school my children, but the school sends a teacher to the house for an hour once a week. While that sounded awful at first, especially to someone who had independently been homeschooling for 22 years, it has really been a blessing. The kids and I love both of the teachers who visit us.
Well, today was visitation day, and my first grader was proudly showing our visitor his week’s work. The young man asked my son what those things were at the top of his language arts work page. My son answered, “Butterflies.” The teacher then asked my son a series of questions about butterflies. Did he know what they were before they were butterflies. Did he know what that thing was called that the caterpillars wrap themselves in. And then the clincher question…..did he know why it is a bad thing to help a butterfly struggling to get out of its cocoon. My son curiously shook his head no, and the teacher explained that the butterfly needs to struggle to escape in order to strengthen its wings, or it will never be strong enough to fly and be free.
Suddenly, I was the butterfly. I am struggling. I recently wrote a post titled Struggling. I’m sure you all heard my desperation in yesterday’s words. I am struggling so hard to escape and it feels futile. I just want someone to come along and make this easier for me, but no one is releasing me.
It occurred to me this morning that maybe this struggle to escape is strengthening me and is necessary for me to be strong enough to fly and be free one day.
anewfreelife 
Another great post. I love watching as you emerge from that cocoon and develop strength in those wings of yours.
A mother I know told me this aphorism: “The most important thing we can teach our kids is to struggle.”
Life is often a struggle. But look how weak running stitch is compared to how strong back-stitch is. It is slower sewing a seam in back-stitch, two steps forward one step back, but it’s much stronger in the end.
Thank you, Barb! Oh, I love the back stitch vs. running stitch comparison. So true! Hmmmm…..gotta really let this sink in.
Like this post and plan to share it with a friend but also like the idea of the back stitch. I want to be strong.
Thank you so much for the story it was exactly what I needed to hear. I woke up this morning feeling angry and stupid I was so mad at myself for wasting 7 years of my life worrying about that psychopath and his problems instead of me and my children’s needs. How could I be so blind, so stupid as to let him fool me like that? I thought he needed me I thought he loved me I thought I was his help mate but instead I was his play thing that he got a sick joy out of seeing me worry and fret over him and his needs. Im just SO ANGRY!!
I know how you feel, Bethany. I’ve certainly had my share of those days, too. As I’ve shared before, I went to counseling after my husband left and my mother died. At one point the counselor asked me about my anger, and I assured her that I didn’t feel angry at all. She told me that the anger would come, but I didn’t believe her. When it did, though, I was really, really angry! At first I directed that anger toward myself and felt exactly what you’re expressing. The counselor told me it was a good thing, that I needed to feel it because it’s a natural part of the grieving process, and we are grieving our lost years, our children’s lost years. HOWEVER, you were not stupid! You were human and felt compassion for another human being. You gave love. That is beautiful! It is his loss! He is stupid!!! It’s okay to feel angry about the wrong that was committed against you. Please use that energy though to rip away at your cocoon instead of beating yourself up for being a loving helpmate to a man who was incapable of receiving or giving love. We are going to make it, Sister!
I am so thrilled to see you two supporting each other. When survivors first leave they need to gush and gush, AND BE BELIEVED. You two are helping each other so much. It’s fantastic.
I have tears in my eyes reading your words… thank you so much for telling me that I am not stupid. I know Im not stupid but I FEEL stupid. I will use my energy to rip away the cocoon as you have sugessted and I will rise from the ashes. Please keep wrighting becouse it is helping me and many others to heal. May God richly bless you and your children.
I am so blessed by your comment! Thank you. May God bless you and your children, too. You can do this. We can do this…..together. : )