My three year-old son has taken to shouting kabam! whenever he wants to emphasize something dramatic. “I was playing with my toy, then…kabam! Sister took it”…”I was eating my ice cream, then…kabam! The dog licked it”…”It was raining, then…kabam! The sun came out.” He says it so often I find myself saying it, too. It’s the perfect interjection, turning any boring old story into something profound.
That’s what I love about spring. It’s the kabam! that ends winter. Last week I was walking the dog and kabam! there were little baby leaves sprouting on the trees. The other day, I was driving to work and kabam! I saw tulips pushing through in the neighbor’s garden. Today, I wore my winter coat to work, then…kabam! it was warm enough to wear a t-shirt by noon. The butterflies-to-be were waiting in their chrysalises, then…kabam! they’re flying free.
Easter is a celebration of the kabam! of kabams in history. The world was held captive by evil, violence, sickness, poverty, and despair, then…kabam! God showed up, His son Jesus dying on the cross for the sins of the world. Light overcame darkness. Hope overcame grief. Love overcame hate. Life overcame death.
My own life was transformed in such a way. I was depressed and hopeless. I didn’t have a reason to live but was too afraid to die. Then…kabam! God intervened in my life, adopting me as His own—giving me a future and a hope.
God loves to intervene in the most impossible of circumstances, and whenever He does, it’s a kabam! moment. Winter melts into spring. Darkness turns to light. Mourning erupts into dancing. Sorrow becomes joy. Nothing is ever hopeless. New life is always waiting beneath the barren ground, waiting for the right season to break through.
A few days ago, I was the one waiting on the butterflies to emerge from their cocoons. Now they’re waiting on me. Or, rather, we’re waiting on the weather. We can’t set them free until the time is right.
When it’s warm enough, we can release them from their temporary habitat so they can fly unhindered. Problem is, the weather’s crazy out here in the Midwest. We never know what’s gonna happen. Our April has felt more like winter than January did. And so, we wait.
Today, three of the butterflies climbed to the top of the netting, wings twitching in anticipation. From where they sit, they have an expansive view of the outdoor field where their greater destiny awaits. Freedom calling.
It feels so harsh, holding them back when they could fly free. They don’t know that if I release them now, they’ll die. It’s too cold for their delicate wings.
Sometimes we wait on the verge of our destinies, wondering what’s holding us back, and why. We don’t understand how we could leave our cocoon behind only to find ourselves in another cocoon. It’s larger than the original, but we have wings now. We were made for more.
We need to remember there’s “a season for everything, a time for every purpose under heaven.” If God is holding us back, it’s for a purpose. The season may not be right just yet. But in due season, the warmth will rush in, ready to embrace us.
It may seem we’re being unfairly restrained, but If we move forward in the wrong season, we’ll never reach our destinies. We’ll die in the cold. When the season is right, we’ll fly free. If only we wait.
Photo Credit: Field, The Sky And Butterflies Free Stock Photo – Public Domain …
They’re here! My butterflies have finally emerged from their cocoons in glorious splendor. Now they flitter around in their little habitat, having forgotten the caterpillars they once were.
It’s been miraculous to witness their transformation. Before I left with my family on a mini-vacation, the butterflies-to-be were still in their cocoons. As a matter of fact, I was wondering if they’d died. There was no movement, no sign of life. I thought we wouldn’t miss anything during our few days away, but I thought wrong. Those little things wriggled their way out while we were gone, and I came home to a garden full of butterflies.
The butterflies’ emergence reminds me of the season we endured before our first adoption. While I knew the outcome would be worth it, there were times when the waiting was unbearable. The worst part was not knowing if anything would happen at all. At times, there seemed to be no forward motion, or any motion for that matter—just dead stillness and deafening silence.
Sometimes waiting feels like being trapped inside a cocoon. There are times it’s difficult to believe anything good will come of it. But as the Bible verse says, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair.” We are never without hope. There will come a time when we, too, will forget the cocoon that once imprisoned us.
Ten years after having started the adoption process, my husband and I have two kids. One is almost eight, the other is already three. That season of waiting is long gone and we have new promises to hold on to.
There will come a time when your waiting will be over and you’ll stand on the other side of your promise. You’ll behold the glorious transformation of winter to spring, death to life. I can’t tell you when your waiting will end, but I can tell you this one thing…it’s gonna be worth it.
Photo Credit: File:Painted Lady at Butterfly World.jpg – Wikimedia Commons
Have you ever been through something so painful it was hard to believe anything good could come of it? It felt like the fury of hell was unleashed against you—the forces of evil at war with your soul. Everywhere you turned, you faced a weapon built to destroy your faith.
God’s Word speaks of a time when His people will take the weapons once used against them and use them for fuel: “Then those who live in the towns of Israel will go out and use the weapons for fuel and burn them up—the small and large shields, the bows and arrows, the war clubs and spears. For seven years they will use them for fuel. They will not need to gather wood from the fields or cut it from the forests, because they will use the weapons for fuel” (Ezekiel 39:9-10).
There is no trial so great that God can’t turn it around and use it for good. When seasons turn, you will see the greater purpose for all that you’ve lost. God will enable you, by His grace, to use every weapon once used against you as fuel for your fire.
I’ve heard stories of those who’ve gone through unimaginably dark circumstances, yet their trials birthed in them a passion for something beyond themselves. They chose to take their impossibly difficult circumstance and use it to bring hope and healing. In the midst of their ashes, they found strength and beauty.
Though she had endured the loss of hearing and sight, Helen Keller was able to say, “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” Though she could not see, she had vision for how her lifelong struggle would be used to bring hope and change to her generation and beyond.
My prayer is that you will find the purpose for your pain. May the Lord open your eyes to see the good that can come from your trial, and enable you to bring hope and healing from the ashes of your suffering. For every weapon forged to destroy your faith, may your faith increase—and may those weapons become fuel that sustains you and brings light to others walking through the dark seasons of life.
So it looks like my butterflies-to-be will be coming home with me for Spring Break. Though I was hoping my students would be here to witness metamorphosis, the timing just didn’t work out. But the coming transformation is something I definitely do NOT want to miss. How sad if it were to happen in an empty classroom, for no one to see.
Unfortunately, that’s how most ordinary miracles are, happening every day, all around us—yet we fail to see. But that’s another blog post.
What I’m thinking about now is…struggle. The other morning, my co-worker gave me some pointers on caring for newly hatched butterflies that turned out to be profound wisdom. When they emerge, the butterflies will struggle. I’ll want to help them, of course, but helping them would hinder a necessary process. Because it’s through the struggle that they gain strength.
How reflective of life, these butterflies. We struggle, fight, and flail—all the while praying to get out of the trial we’re in. If only we lived free of struggle, we’d be strong…or so we believe.
Yet it’s in the midst of struggle that we become strong. The burdens we bear seem to weigh us down, when in fact they’re building us up. Soon, our wings will be strong to fly, if only we endure.
Though it’s hard, I’m learning a new prayer—not that God will take the trial from me (unless He wants to!), but that God will make me stronger through the trial. As Jesus prayed in the garden, so I pray, “My father! If it is possible, may this cup of suffering be taken from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”
This Life & Beyond 
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