Cocooning

The note said, "Happy 40th Birthday, Cheri. May you continue to grow in the knowledge and security of God's love!"

Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets. --Oscar Wilde

And yes it's Kindness that comes you undone like a shoelace. Tips you over with awkward grace back into that perfect place -- that only you can fill for this world. --Pavithra Mehta

A friend of mine recently e-mailed because she was electrified by a book titled The Shack. She was blown away by truths conveyed in this imaginative, paradigm-shifting book, and was eager to dialogue about it. So, I picked up a copy at my local library. After devouring the story in two days, I'm buzzing with a "MUST READ" endorsement.

This year, my 40th birthday is on the third day of Easter! I've heard it said that not for another century (or more) will Easter fall this early on the calendar. And so even though I'm turning The BIG 4-0, I think this birthday might be extra special because of March 25th's allignment with the Easter season. Could it be?

After the double-drama on Maundy Thursday (see previous post Story Weaver) I woke up at 4:00 AM unable to sleep. The 4-0 on the clock made me think of my 40th birthday. So, I crept into the living room, grabbed a present from Sally that was waiting perched on the entertainment center, and opened--EARLY!

Wrapped in blue paper with blue ribbon was a small butterfly jewelry box, and a book, The Spirit of Butterflies: Myth, Magic, and Art. It's an enchanting collection of writings and images that I'll treasure and revisit often. (Thanks for knowing me and supporting my spiritual journey, Sal!) In the book's introduction, author Maraleen Manos-Jones reflects on the special fascination with butterflies:

". . .my strong feeling is that we need butterflies to remind us that positive change is possible, that there is magic to life, and that we have to be mindful of our surroundings, because if we destroy nature, we destroy ourselves. Butterflies awaken our spirits and open our hearts. They give us a sense of hope and the possibility of our own transformation and evolution."

My heart's prayer is for personal growth, healing, CHANGE. I need to break free from fetters of shame, doubt, and fear. (I AM growing and changing, but it feels like I've been praying this prayer forever!) And so it makes sense that the butterfly is an image to which I'm drawn.

I've never really thought of the butterfly as an Easter image. But even more than bunnies and eggs, IT IS the perfect symbol of resurrection!! Manos-Jones explains:

"In the fifth century, Pope Gelasius I issued a pontifical decree declaring that Christ was a caterpillar, for not only did he humble himself and was humbled, but he was also resurrected: Vermis quia resurrexit (The worm [caterpillar] has risen again.) The chrysalis represents the tomb, the place where the miraculous resurrection takes place, from which the soul rises, and the beautiful free-flying butterfly, of course, symbolizes Christ's spirit reborn. Even today, in the west of France, the Cleopatra butterfly, which appears in early spring, is called the Easter Jesus.

It's because of the RISEN Christ that there is HOPE for change. Loving Creator, and Cocoon-spinner, help me to walk in Easter-life. Help me to recognize, nurture, celebrate, and draw from the Spirit of You IN me.

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!
2 Corinthians 5:17

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is FREEDOM. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:17

Sean was an unexpected, but miraculous, "oops" baby. And ever since his birth three years ago, I've instinctively known that he'd be the one (between all three of our kids) to keep the "surprises" comin'.

Just as expected, he's kept us on our toes.

When he was only a year old, Sean's energy rivaled contestants on television's "Amazing Race." In Play With Me I explained: "My youngest son has Spiderman-scaling instincts: reaching, grabbing, hoisting, sliding, and swinging his way (whenever possible) to the highest fixture in the house and once there, doing everything possible to threaten a fall: swaggering with pride, doing a teetering victory dance, waving arms gleefully above head to solicit that needed fix of parental surprise and fear."

Now, at almost 4 years old, I affectionately call him a Tazmanian devil of sorts. He continues to be a whirlwind of activity. A true mischief-maker.

This week, I found Sean standing in the living room with what we thought was an out-of-reach DVD remote. He had opened the remote-back and with a glance I could tell that the battery (a small nickel-sized disc) was missing.

Knowing Sean's obsession with batteries, I panicked. "Where's the battery, Sean? Where is it?"

He simply stared at me with a silly sort of grin and pointed to his stomach.

"You ate it?" I half screamed, while scouring the floor and nearby furniture for any sign that he might be lying.

When he put his hand on his chest and said, "It's in my tummy, Mommy. And it kind of hurts." I froze. A mischief maker, yes, but an honest one at that.

Emergency room X-rays proved that Sean's swallowed battery had made it safely through his esophogus to the stomach. With expectation that the intestinal track would simply "move things along" we were sent home from the hospital to "watch." Two days later we were still waiting for Sean's BM jackpot.

And then he began complaining of more pain.

A second trip to the ER. (And because I had that familiar "oops" baby feeling--this time I brought him to Children's Hospital in Minneapolis.) Further X-rays explained that the battery was NOT in fact moving down. It was still floating around in Sean's stomach and starting to leak.

Surgery was set up for the same day.

This "same day" was yesterday. And in my opinion there was already enough "drama" on the schedule. . . The Christos kids I'd been directing in a play were scheduled to practice ONE LAST TIME (at 5:00 pm) and then PERFORM immediately following for a 6:30 pm service. Sean's surgery was set for 4:00. I was disappointed about missing the play, but of course there was no question about where I most wanted to be.

Jennifer, too, wanted to be with the family, and with mixed feelings she chose (very mature of her, I think) to pass her acting role on to another student, and miss the service designed to feature her First Communion.

We're both SO glad we stayed with Sean.

We thought we knew how the evening would end, and we'd made our peace with that ending, but thanks be to God, Our Great Story Weaver wasn't finished with his tale. Because He (more than spunky, spiraling Sean) knows a thing or two about the element of "surprise." What happened next was this: we experienced a circumstantial parting of the Red Sea. . .

Miraculously, Sean was in and out of surgery without complications--ready to go home by 5:45. . .a mere 45 minutes before the Maundy Thursday service.

Rich and the boys hopped into one of our cars, Jennifer and I took the other. Anxiously, we drove and prayed and drove and prayed. I kept saying, "Jennifer, it's rush hour. There's a good chance we won't make it." But every stop light stayed green. And amazingly the traffic was sparce. A quick 2-minute pit stop at home, and we made it to the church on time. . .just as kids were taking their places for the play's first scene.

TALK ABOUT HOLY COMMUNION!!

The play was wonderful. Jennifer's First Communion was meaningful. My heart was soaring with thankfulness. . . for Sean's health, for these children who so earnestly shared the story of God's endless welcome, and for the gift of Christ's body and blood.

When Jen and I arrived home an hour or so later, the doctors had prepared us to find a SUPER-SLEEPY, recovering three year old.

Instead, I was greeted at the door by wildly scampering feet and a huge, happy tackling hug. "Mommy, the battery is OUT of me. It's OUT!"

Contrary to medical prediction, Sean never did wind down. Even after "celebrating" for several hours he was still going!

Have you ever heard of the "Energizer Sean-ny?"