Words have been hard to find lately and it’s all about transitions—this welcoming of summer brings with it the sweet wet of watermelon on the tongue and more demands at work and home and church. The beauty of this love-busy has me wrapped in a thick cocoon and sometimes…it feels like I can’t breathe.
In the morning, I lie in the floor in our meeting place and study the cobwebs on the ceiling and recount to God all the things I’ve been blessed to have on my to-do list today. And then I do the thing that my first spiritual director told me she does every morning. This is what I have planned, I say. But if you have other ideas, please feel free.
Always, the plans get changed.
There are young hearts who need me and they are welcoming summer too. So we go through this transition together and I learn from them what it means to truly open the hand. This morning the rain falls—a fine mist over my garden—and I smile because…this changes the plans.
Jeffrey goes out back and stands in the stuff—a living rain meter. When he comes back in, he hugs me all wet, then announces he’s going for a run in the rain. It’s one of my favorite things, but he doesn’t know this and I feel a tiny love tap on my heart.
Yesterday, I harvested the last of the lettuce and kale and Teddy found a recipe for kale soup I want to try. There will be salad for lunch for days but the broccoli isn’t ready yet. This cocoon feels good but it is permeable and life keeps interfering with my development inside. But I know it’s about more than the physical and transformation sometimes feels like the fallout from a mortar blast.
I think about the Caddisfly lady. How she collects the larvae of the Caddisfly and takes them home to her lab. These little critters make cocoons out of tiny stones in the creek beds and headwaters where they live naturally. The Caddisfly lady puts semiprecious stones into the stream ecosystems in her lab and the cocoons these little artists make are beautiful. The Caddisfly lady then makes and sells jewelry from the abandoned cocoons after the larvae mature.
My caddisfly bracelet is made from sodalite. Can you see the beautiful cocoon bead?
God puts all these beautiful pebbles into my ecosystem too. But some days it feels like I’m still trying to make my cocoon out of mud. That’s what feels natural. But if I want life to become art, I need to pay better attention to these gems God surrounds me with. Choose better.
Because, even the transitions can be beautiful.
Blogging in community with Michelle and Jen today. Love you girls!
I’m a morning person and happiest in a place with no walls. Give me a bed of grass and a blanket-sky and I will dream deep in wonder. But a good story takes me to this place too. And a poem? Even better. You can always find me here. Or connect with me on on facebook, twitter, or pinterest.