They sent us three caterpillars, sealed in their jar complete with their rapid-growth food. I remember looking dubiously at the three critters, so tiny and feeble looking. “There’s no way that all three will become butterflies,” I warned my excited children. “They probably send you three so that maybe ONE will actually make it all the way to wings.”
We watched them over the next two weeks as they grew rapidly. It was remarkable. Every time we looked at them, it seemed they had doubled in size. I don’t know what they put in that food… Then one day two of them climbed to the top of the jar and transformed themselves into chrysalids. How do they know how to do this? The other one hung around, chowing down for a few more days before finally joining his buddies.
So far, two have emerged as butterflies. My kids have taken turns naming them. My son named the first butterfly, “Chrys,” because it was the first out of its chrysalid. My daughter named the second one, “Emily,” after a friend.
I have the honor of naming the third one. I feel unworthy of this honor since I was the one who kept saying not to expect all three to make it. Now as I peer into the bungalow at the two flapping butterflies waiting to be freed and the one remaining chrysalid, I feel a little ashamed at my lack of faith.
I’ve joked with my kids about naming the last butterfly. “How about ‘slowpoke?'” I asked. I got dirty looks.
“Hmmm. Birdfood?”
“MOM!!!”
I keep peeking at the little thing. I can imagine what it’s thinking. “I’m NOT going out there. She doesn’t think I can, so why should I bother?”
My husband and I listened to a radio broadcast this morning by
Wayne Cordero. He spoke about the power of our words. He told the story of a toddler who had been nicknamed “Mean Mike” because of a tantrum he had (at age two) when his father tried to take away a toy. This nickname followed him through his life. He is now serving a life-sentence in prison. Is it because he grew into his name? Perhaps.
My parents were (are) experts at speaking encouragement into my life. I give them a lot of credit for the person I am today. I try to remember that when I speak with my own kids and I cringe when I hear other parents bad-mouthing their kids, even in jest.
So today I whispered to the chrysalid. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. I know you can do it. Please come out.” We’re going to keep encouraging it until it flaps its little wings in freedom.
I’ve decided to name it ‘Freedom,’ because the Bible says “It is for freedom that Christ has set you free.” (Gal 5:1).
Now, little Freedom, get out here and so you can be free.
***News Flash ***
As I was finishing this, just about to his “publish post” I got a call from the other room. “We have THREE butterflies!”
Little Freedom is lying on his back, kicking his legs, but he’s out of his chrysalid! Woo-hoo!
My kids and I have been conducting a science project this summer. We bought a “Butterfly Bungalow” at Frogs and Pollywogs and sent away for our painted lady butterfly larvae.
Awesome name. I was going to suggest FAITH…
GOD BLESS..andrea
Karen, you know I love to read the words you’ve written, I enjoy your sense of humor, but mostly, I love hearing your heart! You are a precious lady!
You two are such encouragers to me! Thank you. I just re-read this post and noticed several typos. That’s what happens when you’re writing with a seven-year-old clinging to one arm. Oh, well. This too shall pass — and I will miss it. Thanks for taking the time to read my blog. Your interest means the world to me.