Butterflies and Monster Guts

on growing a new pair of wings

I stood at the big, gray door of the school and waited to be buzzed in by the secretary. Holland had forgotten her water bottle at home, and on this hot day, I knew she’d be needing it.

Ms. Beverly hit the button to buzz me in, and as I entered the lobby, a preschool class was making its way down the hall in a single file line. They were bright eyed, snaggle-toothed, and buzzing with energy. It made me wonder if they had some sort of assembly. Assemblies always crack the kids out. At least, that’s how they affecyed me.

“Y’all going to an assembly?” I asked Mrs. B.

“Actually, we are just going outside,” she replied in a teachery-narrator voice that told me this was a classroom moment. “Where we are going to go meet a pupa!”

“A pupa?” I asked, playing along. “What’s a pooo…puu….?”

“PEW-PUH!” a student who was leading the line answered. “It’s the chry-suh-lis phase of the butterfly.”

“Chrysalis, huh?” I smiled.

Mrs. C held up a small, blue bug cage which held a stick and cocoon.

“Wow,” I said, in my most impressed voice. “Well, I hope y’all have a wonderful time!"

I held the door open and the kids marched through, jabbering like happy little birds.

“Did you know that a pupa turns into goo?”

“Like slime?”

“Like monster guts slime.”

“EWWW!”

“It’s true, I saw it on Youtube. And then, the goo turns into a butterfly.”

C.S. Lewis once said (and I’m paraphrasing) that when he grieves, it isn’t just for his friend that died. He also grieves the part of him that only his friend could bring out that would never be brought out again.

As I read this description of Lewis’ grief, I realized that I am mourning. Not just my husband of 17 years, but the person I was when I was with him. I loved being needed. I cherished that role.

Loving him made my heart so damn happy. But that’s not my job, anymore.

15 years ago—in a very depressed state—I wrote a letter to my Future Self. I asked Future Me about Ian’s job, and the names of our future children. I asked her if I still loved riding horses, and if I played guitar in my free time. I asked her if the hard times got any better.

I asked Future Me if we’d make it.

In my sadness, it hadn’t occurred to me that I’d already answered that question. Just by imagining a Future Me, I had chosen the path of Hope. I already believed that in some shape or form, I would get to the other side.

I just didn’t know what that would look like, exactly.

I didn’t know who I’d become.

Divorce is a chrysalis moment for me. A decision I don’t get to make. A life changing event that’s not what I asked for, but is exactly what I’m gonna get.

And right now, y’all…I’m just a mess. A pod full of monster guts slime.

Change is coming at me so fast my head is spinning. So right now, I’m just hunkering down. Surviving a metamorphosis that I didn’t freaking want, and struggling to manage the pain.

And when I emerge from this mess?

I won’t be the same.

I’ll be an entirely different Mary Katherine.

For better or worse, I will love differently, trust differently, believe differently, and scariest of all…I’ll have to find a new purpose, too. One that right now, I can’t possibly imagine, but with time, I hope becomes clear.

I’m in a chrysalis phase.

I’m a big pile of monster guts slime. But I do believe that in this pain, there will be some sort of purpose. Whatever hope is remaining in me needs to believe that in order to survive. There’s only one reason for a season like this, right?

There’s only one purpose for a chrysalis.

Whatever future that God has in store for me will require that I grow some wings.