Tiny Miracles on Paper-Thin Wings
You Won't Believe What My Toddlers Did Today
I am writing this in the midst of two crabby kids, resisting nap. This morning did not start out the best. My husband is on at the station today, and the kids and I were off to a late start on breakfast because of some indecision and distractions. But as I was cooking the oatmeal my eldest selected, toddler whispers emanated from the pantry.
Never a good sign.
As I lifted the curtain, they tried to hide what they'd stolen (*those sneaky little hobbitsies*), but I could smell it at once. And unfortunately for my healthy, balanced breakfast, they'd already eaten several fistfulls of the dense canned meat intended to feed an army.
I try very hard not to stress out about how much my children eat, but it's a weak knee of mine, and I found my temper flaring when they both snubbed the requested oatmeal breakfast. It didn't help that I was already feeling uncomfortable in my skin and like everything my kids do was a personal attack---it's wasn’t. They were just being 3 and 5. Sometimes, the behavior just *feels* pointed, and I have to manage my own emotions about it.
I texted a close group of friends, my ladies who are my prayer lifeline and manage to nearly always uplift me. But also because, come on, the fact that it was Spam was completely ridiculous, and even angry, I could partially recognize the hilarity.
When one of my friends commented at the high dexterity of my toddlers for getting the can open, I couldn't help laughing.
***
The rest of the day has been the same kind of trainwreck. My kids still aren't napping, so I know that chances are good for dysregulation (ie chaos) this afternoon. But instead of feeling utterly doomed, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the small surprise the three of us spotted on the bookshelf this morning. A delicate flutter of wings.
***
Last July, we took in 4 catepillars that we’d rescued from our dill patch. After a few days of feeding them from our crop and marveling at how much they could go through, the four chunky catepillars formed their chrysalises. A few weeks later, 2 beautiful black swallowtail butterflies emerged. Setting them free in our butterfly garden last August was a moment of pure wonder and delight for all ages.
But that still left 2 chrysalises, apparently in stasis. We didn't panic, just waited. By the time winter came, I assumed they had died. Somewhere in my online research, it said that some swallowtails remain dormant through winter, but spring was a long time away. Could they really survive that long? How did they know it was winter when our house remained heated? We had little faith, and so moved them to a smaller enclosure, putting them up high on our bookshelf. Every time the kids asked if the butterflies would come soon, we prayed. Then, we forgot.
Frankly, life went on. Conversations about the butterflies became a distant memory. We even forgot they were still hanging out up there.
So today, my heart soared when I caught sight of the newly emerged butterfly, drying its paper-thin, velvety wings. The kids and I nearly pressed our faces to the plastic container, rejoincing over its spots and healthy color. The 3yo even composed it a song on the piano.
A tiny miracle, soon to be set free in the world on the next clear day. For now, we have offered sliced apple and sugar water on a cotton swab. We have renewed hope for the final butterfly to emerge.
For today, I thank God for the reminder that dormancy doesn't mean death, that messes don't mean misery, and a quarter can of Spam for breakfast never killed anybody. I am thankful for the God who doesn't forget to answer even the prayers we forget about.
I'll most certainly forget how difficult today was. Most parents do. Life will go on, and one day, maybe, I’ll be one of those grannies who shouts “looks like you’ve got your hands full” at mothers on the verge of ripping their hair out. Hopefully not. But my prayers for greater patience, inner regulation for myself, and a better understanding of my children’s perspectives are probably one of those things, like a chrysalis, that will take time. Just because we don't see the results right away in our world doesn't mean no work is happening.