Talk to me, Abba.
Over the last few weeks, I have watched a caterpillar wrap itself in a cocoon and then emerge a butterfly. Today, I stared deeply at the wonders of God as the orange color slowly filled its brown wings with bright orange as if it had been injected with paint that slowly crept through it's veins.
I think about one line I heard on Sunday morning.
You will be made whole.
Isaiah 53. You will not be made whole like when you were a caterpillar or a chrysalis. You will be whole as a new creation, one that gained the strength to fly through struggling through the cocoon. Dark, tight death wrapped the body and you had no idea if you would ever make it out alive. Then you emerge, barely there. Searching for strength. The color of dirt. Slowly, the color, the spirit of life, starts to fill you. You are alive. You are whole. You are what you were always meant to be. You are because of the struggle.