Hope in the Journey

Last summer I embarked on a “crazy lady next door” sort of adventure, without intending to. Now that I think about it, I doubt I’ve ever tried to get involved in these kinds of things.  It just happens.

It all started when I learned that the rice-sized black specks on my parsley plant were actually teeny, tiny baby caterpillars with incredibly huge appetites.  Daily I watched as they quickly grew to be vibrant lime green monsters, chomping away all day oblivious to my special interest.

After some research, I learned that a caterpillar doesn’t leave his food source his entire larva life.  So, in a bold move, I brought the plants inside and set them up in the front windowsill.  I gave my new friends sunshine and all the food they could eat, safely tucked away from the threat of any hungry predator looking for a juicy meal.  We named them Bob and Doug because, well, we’re Canadian, eh?

I’d highly recommend caterpillars as pets; very low maintenance with no litter box or poop scooping to be done.  Plus, they are incredibly interesting to watch.

Eventually, out of nowhere, the day we knew would happen, did.  Bob set out on a grand adventure made known only to him by his Creator.  I won’t tell you exactly where his day long escapade took him, but suffice to say it included some precarious locations and covered a remarkable amount of ground considering how slowly he moseyed along.

After hours of distracting us with his shenanigans, Bob crawled up a make-shift tripod of sticks and then just stopped, curled up, and went to sleep.

Expectedly, within a few short hours, my vibrant beautiful caterpillar transformed into an ugly, dreadful, comatose grey lump.  I was heartbroken. Although I knew it would happen, it was still a dismal sight to see. 

Days turned into weeks and the cocoon hung dark, seemingly lifeless, until late one afternoon.  Checking in, I was shocked to see it deserted.  Perched inches below, drying his wings, I spotted the most exquisite butterfly I had ever seen. 

But let’s recap, friends.  Before this beauty came the ugly, the seemingly dead.  Then the struggle gave way to incredible beauty.  And things were not at all as they had seemed.  

This whole scene reminded me of my dad.  Big hot tears slide down my face as I remember that not long ago cancer wreaked havoc on his poor body. He endured much pain and suffering.  But listen, my dad didn’t stay there.  That was not the end of the story.  And listen, sister, that’s why we have hope.

II Corinthians 4: 16- 18 (NIV) says this: Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

How about you?  Are you struggling in a dark time? It’s true, there is sadness and there is loss, but we have hope in Christ.  He, himself, conquered death so that we don’t have to stay there!

I know that I will see my dad again.  I know that he will have a new body, one that’s perfect.  This is truth. This is why I have hope, and you can too.   

♥ Tess