METAMORPHOSIS!
I’d never seen such an ugly caterpillar! Bigger than my little finger; dirty beige background, with irregular brown splodges. I don’t wonder even the birds won’t eat them! I put my finger out. He draws back his head into a fearsome bulge, and it looks as if two huge eyes are looking at me. Scary! Ugly!!
Soon it cast its skin. My – that chrysalis was over an inch long, ugly and brown. I don’t know what it is. Part of me wanted to know – part of me was scared of what it might become.
Then, in the middle of the night I was woken by a rattling, rustling noise. I was scared. I called Mum and Dad in. The chrysalis had ‘hatched’. Although its wings weren’t quite fully expanded, they were ‘shocking pink’ at the top, shading through navy/purple to gold – so much like the rose bay willow herb on which the caterpillar had fed. We look in the book – it’s an Elephant Hawk moth. Soon its wings spread fully, and we released it, and it flew away to freedom - free to fly, to reproduce, and to bring joy to others.
I feel like that caterpillar, Lord. I can remember the first time I saw a photograph of myself as a baby. Later, I would deliver a baby with a cleft lip and palate. I thank the Lord that it was my delivery, as I was able to guide the mum through the shock and let her see the results of my surgery. I still felt ugly, though – I was that ugly, pre-operative baby inside, not the pretty, perfect baby that other parents had.
When I became a Christian, and my love of nature developed, people told me I’d change into something beautiful one day. I think they were talking about heaven. When I was with Jesus, I’d be beautiful and free – but now I was ugly, just like that caterpillar. I wanted the Lord to hurry up.
Then, a few months ago, it was as if my old skin split. I thought I was going to be free, but no, I couldn’t move. Inside, I felt as if I was breaking up completely. Who was I? Not the old me – but not free in heaven. Could I hurry that up? I was changing, the ‘caterpillar’ in me was liquefying – and I was terrified. Then my imprisoning case seemed to crack just a little. I wriggled and wriggled, and pulled myself on to a stalk. What were these saggy things on my back? I was still ugly – but a different kind of ugly. The sun shone. The air was moist and these things on my back expanded and felt strong. Did I have WINGS? But if wings, I could FLY. On earth – in my BODY. Someone opened the top of my container. I stretched my wings a few times, made for the light – and FLEW! It came naturally to me. I was not a dyspraxic caterpillar! I was in the air, for which I had been made – and, reflected in the water, I was BEAUTIFUL!
What has this to do with joy? I’m FREE – because the Lord has set me free. The Holy Spirit is teaching me to use my wings. And, being free, I can meet with others and reproduce, even though humanly childless. I’m reminded of the last verse of an incredible Salvation Army song by Ruth Tracy – which I will paraphrase by changing the word ‘power’ – true as it is – to ‘joy.’ Attractive, beautiful joy of the Lord.
Only as I truly know Thee
Can I make Thee truly known;
Only bring the joy to others
Which in my own life is shown.
Show Thy joy in me.
Show Thy joy in me.
That I may be used for others,
Show Thy joy in me.
~~~~
I DON’T DO THIS!
Fortunately our Corps doesn’t use tambourines! I used to love watching the ‘timbrel marches’ at The Mothers’ Hospital, but no way could I learn them! Dyspraxia doesn’t mix with rhythm and that complicated series of movements – nor does dancing! Clapping – well – IF I’m watching someone else to see when. I don’t do those things. To quote the old poem “My get-up and-go has got up and went!” – if it ever existed! Until a year ago, when I heard Terl Bryant and the Psalm Drummers, apart from a xylophone or glockenspiel, I believed that the main purpose of percussion was to make sure that neither the congregation nor the worship group could hear or learn the correct tune! There was a secret desire to touch an African-style drum, but that was as far as it went! I did pick up a little percussion thing at Bournemouth Oceanarium, but it was still in its bag – and likely to stay there.
The Lord had other ideas! He was dealing with me inwardly, and I began to find His joy. But joy has to express itself. I began to clap gently and was handed a tiny African-style drum. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Jesus put this song into our hearts” – I tried to tap out a rhythm, and grew more and more confident as the song went on. But I had to MOVE with the African drum! The children in our Kenyan and Ugandan schools moved. But they had a natural sense of rhythm. I didn’t. I began to sway. I bent my knees and moved a bit more. I began to bounce. I began to move my arms more. I began to get carried away. Caution prevailed, and part of each foot remained on the ground all the time – after all, my hips aren’t those I was born with – but I ‘nearly’ danced (more nearly than I ever did at school). Perhaps tonight I might go further? Banner-waving? I WILL do this – God has set me free! And I did!
I’d never seen such an ugly caterpillar! Bigger than my little finger; dirty beige background, with irregular brown splodges. I don’t wonder even the birds won’t eat them! I put my finger out. He draws back his head into a fearsome bulge, and it looks as if two huge eyes are looking at me. Scary! Ugly!!
Soon it cast its skin. My – that chrysalis was over an inch long, ugly and brown. I don’t know what it is. Part of me wanted to know – part of me was scared of what it might become.
Then, in the middle of the night I was woken by a rattling, rustling noise. I was scared. I called Mum and Dad in. The chrysalis had ‘hatched’. Although its wings weren’t quite fully expanded, they were ‘shocking pink’ at the top, shading through navy/purple to gold – so much like the rose bay willow herb on which the caterpillar had fed. We look in the book – it’s an Elephant Hawk moth. Soon its wings spread fully, and we released it, and it flew away to freedom - free to fly, to reproduce, and to bring joy to others.
I feel like that caterpillar, Lord. I can remember the first time I saw a photograph of myself as a baby. Later, I would deliver a baby with a cleft lip and palate. I thank the Lord that it was my delivery, as I was able to guide the mum through the shock and let her see the results of my surgery. I still felt ugly, though – I was that ugly, pre-operative baby inside, not the pretty, perfect baby that other parents had.
When I became a Christian, and my love of nature developed, people told me I’d change into something beautiful one day. I think they were talking about heaven. When I was with Jesus, I’d be beautiful and free – but now I was ugly, just like that caterpillar. I wanted the Lord to hurry up.
Then, a few months ago, it was as if my old skin split. I thought I was going to be free, but no, I couldn’t move. Inside, I felt as if I was breaking up completely. Who was I? Not the old me – but not free in heaven. Could I hurry that up? I was changing, the ‘caterpillar’ in me was liquefying – and I was terrified. Then my imprisoning case seemed to crack just a little. I wriggled and wriggled, and pulled myself on to a stalk. What were these saggy things on my back? I was still ugly – but a different kind of ugly. The sun shone. The air was moist and these things on my back expanded and felt strong. Did I have WINGS? But if wings, I could FLY. On earth – in my BODY. Someone opened the top of my container. I stretched my wings a few times, made for the light – and FLEW! It came naturally to me. I was not a dyspraxic caterpillar! I was in the air, for which I had been made – and, reflected in the water, I was BEAUTIFUL!
What has this to do with joy? I’m FREE – because the Lord has set me free. The Holy Spirit is teaching me to use my wings. And, being free, I can meet with others and reproduce, even though humanly childless. I’m reminded of the last verse of an incredible Salvation Army song by Ruth Tracy – which I will paraphrase by changing the word ‘power’ – true as it is – to ‘joy.’ Attractive, beautiful joy of the Lord.
Only as I truly know Thee
Can I make Thee truly known;
Only bring the joy to others
Which in my own life is shown.
Show Thy joy in me.
Show Thy joy in me.
That I may be used for others,
Show Thy joy in me.
~~~~
I DON’T DO THIS!
Fortunately our Corps doesn’t use tambourines! I used to love watching the ‘timbrel marches’ at The Mothers’ Hospital, but no way could I learn them! Dyspraxia doesn’t mix with rhythm and that complicated series of movements – nor does dancing! Clapping – well – IF I’m watching someone else to see when. I don’t do those things. To quote the old poem “My get-up and-go has got up and went!” – if it ever existed! Until a year ago, when I heard Terl Bryant and the Psalm Drummers, apart from a xylophone or glockenspiel, I believed that the main purpose of percussion was to make sure that neither the congregation nor the worship group could hear or learn the correct tune! There was a secret desire to touch an African-style drum, but that was as far as it went! I did pick up a little percussion thing at Bournemouth Oceanarium, but it was still in its bag – and likely to stay there.
The Lord had other ideas! He was dealing with me inwardly, and I began to find His joy. But joy has to express itself. I began to clap gently and was handed a tiny African-style drum. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Jesus put this song into our hearts” – I tried to tap out a rhythm, and grew more and more confident as the song went on. But I had to MOVE with the African drum! The children in our Kenyan and Ugandan schools moved. But they had a natural sense of rhythm. I didn’t. I began to sway. I bent my knees and moved a bit more. I began to bounce. I began to move my arms more. I began to get carried away. Caution prevailed, and part of each foot remained on the ground all the time – after all, my hips aren’t those I was born with – but I ‘nearly’ danced (more nearly than I ever did at school). Perhaps tonight I might go further? Banner-waving? I WILL do this – God has set me free! And I did!