Inside the Cocoon
I’ve been contemplating some really big things the Lord has been doing in my heart over the last 7 years since I picked up a paintbrush again. The current series of work I’m working on has marked SO much growth that I can do nothing but stand in amazement. The things I’m learning, and are finally solidifying my me started with a seed planted almost 17 years ago. A poem my mother shared with me in the depth of my depression, whose words I had no idea would change me completely.
I share this poem with you.
Inside the Cocoon
By Geri Paul
I
Pacing the floor
I walk
From the living room
Through the dining room
To the kitchen
And back again
Walking slower
And slower
My sandals
Scarcely lifting
As energy drains
From tired muscles
I’m caught up
Sorting
Thoughts
Questions
Doubts
Shuffling them
Back and forth
I would rather not
Struggle
Through the fog
Hanging low in my mind
But I’m prodded on
On to think and
To ask
Why
Why this reluctance
Why do I hesitate to
Tell you
About life
In my cocoon
Perhaps it is because
I am not sure life exists in
This confined
Restricted state
Or perhaps it is because
Disappointment crowds in
Choking out hope
Hope of what could have been
Or maybe I hesitate because
I’d rather not write about cocoons
I prefer writing of butterflies
Butterflies with colored velvet wings
Wings that soar
Soar
Uninhibited
Liberated
From momentary incubation
I’d rather speak of movement
Movement in God’s kingdom
Not of those who have been set aside
Set aside to wait and
Wait
As if forgotten
Perhaps I hesitate
Because
To tell my story
I would need to start at the beginning
I’m reluctant
To find that beginning
It takes effort
To look back
Back at what one wishes could be erased
My mind rewinds the past
In reverse
My thoughts jump back to three years ago
Then ten years before that
Then five, ending with eight more
Each segment has its own marker
Embedded in my history
Each marker designating
An assortment of circumstances
Situations
Illness
Cycling in and out
Keeping me housebound
Forbidding
Forays to the outside
And that is why there is heaviness when
I begin to write about cocoons
For when the beginning is accounted for
And the years are added up
It has now been more than two decades
An unanticipated length of time
In such a tiny chrysalis
There have been times
Every now and then
That I’ve been allowed a brief reprieve
Released to be outside
Doing what I was created to do
In warmth and light of the sun
Knowing the will of the Father
And then it happens
After a few short days
I find my wings have been clipped
And the cocoon begins to weave around me
Pinning me in
Yet again
And so it is that year
After year
I watch from my window
As my fellow companions
Break loose of their cocoons
Butterflies with
Wings shimmering in sunlight
Each one different
Each with his or her own message
I hear of the places they have been
How they flourish in His kingdom
I had so wanted to be part of this group
That soared with Him
On the wings of the morning
But that is not to be
With shoulders bent
I hurriedly turn
From the window
For I don’t want
The others to
See my eyes
Clouding up
With
Tears
Just maybe
Next year
Will be my turn
And so I wait
Silently
Staring at the
Inside lining of
My solitary cell
I wait
For my turn
Would I ever have a turn
Would I ever have a message to carry
Would I ever be useful
Useful
There it is again
Why is it so important
So consuming
Is not usefulness essential
To progress in general
And God’s kingdom in particular
I look into the past
To substantiate my perspective
Coming from pioneer stock
I recognize the value of
Progress
Productivity
Work was survival
They struggled to tame the land
They bore children to help with the workload
Each person was needed on the farm
As well as in God’s kingdom
God was looking for laborers in His fields
And I had signed up
I had worked alongside my parents
We worked long days and
Into the night
Watering
Planting
God’s seed in the hearts of those
Who were seeking
We worked side-by side
Faithful to His calling
Careful in using the
Talents He had entrusted
And that is where I sensed His presence
That is where I sensed His presence
That is where I felt His approval
Working out in the hot sun
And that is how I grew to love Him
And to love those fields
When I grew up
That is where I wanted to return
And yet
I’ve been unable to go back
My most recent illness
Delays
Excursions to the outside
Pacing the floor
I look up
Questions in my eyes
Disappointed in His plan for me
Doubts tighten their grasp
Despondent thoughts flood in
Where is God
Where did I go wrong
Where did I miss the path
What of my dreams and hopes
I review them again and again
Didn’t they come from You
Why plant such deep commitments in my soul
Why call me into Your service
You had called me by name
And I answered
Hoping
To please You
I’m puzzled
I had assumed that
For efficiency in Your kingdom
You would desire to use
All who commit to Your service
Would You really want to allow
Even one volunteer to go unused
Certainly this can’t be what
You have in mind for me
Recently
I have been informed it will be
A year
Maybe two
Before my body is able
To regain
Its normal strength
I am told to cut back on
Activities
I cut back but still it is not
Enough to maintain
My equilibrium
I eliminate more
Activities
Reluctantly
Cutting back from responsibilities
Cutting back from friendships
Trimming down the
Circumference of my world
I find smaller
Quieter
Tasks
Inside the cocoon
And in my incessant quest
To be useful
I’ve devised a plan
A plan to only think about things I am able to do
I’ve discovered that at least I can
Phone one person a day
And at least I can
Pray for one family a day
It is on the heels of such a plan that
This week hits
This week
Stands out from the rest
Because it brings
Added health complications
The cough
Leaves me without a voice
Unable to speak
Now I must
Cut back on the one phone call a day
The new physical condition depletes my mind
Leaving me unable to concentrate
Unable to pray
For the one family a day
This disability
Puts an end to my
Last attempt at
Usefulness
I know well the usual symbols
Representing such times in life
Word pictures such as
Pruning
Molding
Submitting to the potter’s wheel
Yet these
Fail to resemble the
Devastation
Crushing in on me today
I would choose an analogy
More severe
More graphic
More like
Amputation
Indeed
This image is better suited
For with one sharp
Slice
The sword of the Spirit
Severs my wings
For an instant I thought I had seen
A fleeting
Flutter
Of my wings
Blue, purple, outlined in yellow
But it must have been a dream
Because
Now my
Bloodied
Body is
Being bound
Bandages wrapping
Around my mouth
My eyes
My mind
Cutting off
Connection with the world outside
The distress of sensing
Uselessness
Is heavy upon me
I find it hard to breathe
The final strand pulled tight
Darkness
Closes in
The cocoon
Is now
Complete.
II
Traces of betrayal
Flicker in and out
Notions of having been
Misled by the
Master generate
Mistrust in
His promises
Long in coming
I watch my children now grown
I watch my friends go about living the design for their lives
I wonder what is to become of me
Hope falters
Will half my life be in
This embalmed state
Or perhaps it will take even longer
My hand tightens as if to ward off
The dart
Coming my way
Vulnerable
And defenseless
I freeze
As the question hits its mark
What if I never break free
Had I ever considered that before
What if
In my particular case
The cocoon season is to be
For the whole of my earthly stay
What if
The butterfly
Will not appear
Until
The next life
How can this be
This can’t possibly be the plan
Surely this isn’t what He intended
But the question persists
What if this is what He intended
What then
His promises don’t give a stated time
Or for that matter
His promises don’t
Guarantee
He will use me in a certain way
I remember the time
I had surrendered my life for His use
Yet today
It seems He is asking for something different
It’s as if He is asking me to
Surrender my life to His plan
His plan could either be
To be used by Him
Or
To not be used by Him
Reluctantly I consider this option
There is no room for argument
He is sovereign
He is God
Bowing
Beneath
The harsh burden
Wounded
Slowly I let go of my dreams of
Life outside the cocoon
I let go of the hope of having
Wings to fly in this world
I must learn to
Willingly
Wait
Wait for this to happen
In another time
Another place
I begin to adjust
Readjust
My way of thinking
This new perspective
Is accompanied by
No longer
Needing to
Go to the window
Expectantly watching
For the day of release
I continue to pace the floor
Walking
From the living room
Through the dining room
It’s raining and
I can’t rest
Nights and days blurring together
Walking slower and slower
As the energy drains
From tired muscles
It becomes
Difficult
To distinguish the line
Between the aching muscles
The tired aching head
And the disillusionment of an aching heart
But I must
Move on
Move on to what
I console myself
That
If I can’t be useful
Then I suppose
I’ll have to
Just be…
As I repeat it to myself
It seems
Second-best
But that is all I can do
As so
I submit
And
With submission
Calmness sets in.
III
I keep pacing
With nothing else to do
But
Just be
I walk from the dining room
Into the kitchen
And
As I turn
Retracing my steps
Suddenly
A small gold-framed plaque
On the kitchen window sill
Catches
The corner of my eye
I stop
I had not paid much attention
To it before
But now
I pause to look at it
It is a gift I received four months ago
A quote from Exodus
The frame is about two by three inches
And within the gold frame
On a white background
Are two words
In capital letters
“I AM…”
As I stand in front of it
It’s as if a veil is slowly lifted
And for a brief moment
Light
From all eternity
Breaks into my tiny space
Expanding into the deserted kitchen
Reminding me of a bush
That once burned in the wilderness
I draw closer
To the words
My heart opening
To the truth of
His presence
Gazing at the small frame
I realize
There are times when
The great I AM
Just…is…
What?
My eyes remain fixed on the frame
The words look back at me
God and I
Here in the kitchen
Just being
His presence in not rushed
He has the calm and stillness of a thousand years
His gaze is clear and steady
Then it occurs to me
If God can just be
Then maybe
Just being is not second-best
My attention abruptly captivated
This reassuring unexpected twist
Triggers a sudden shockwave
Vibrating through my mind
Pulsing on through my very core
Shattering fundamental misconceptions
And in its wake
Overwhelming relief
The quote serves to redirect my thoughts
Interesting the plaque didn’t say
“I am the Bread of Life”
“I am the Living Water”
“I am the Good Shepherd”
He is all those useful things
But this time
He just is
It seems He wants me to know
There is another aspect of life
That is different than
Being useful
The God of the universe
Giving me permission
To just be
I begin to see
There is a place in His kingdom
For simply being present
Not in emptiness alone
It is in His presence
I sit quietly
With an open heart
He has not forgotten me
The God of Moses
The great I AM
With two unpretentious words
Infiltrates
My tight cocoon
In the warmth and glow of the burning bush
His very breath of life
Transforming my
Hopeless tomb to
Holy ground
All is still
I bow
Unburdened
In wonder
And worship
I look up
And like rain
On a warm
Summer day
His mercy
His kindness
His grace
Fall
On my parched face
Washing away
The last residue of doubt
Flooding
Eroded hidden channels
Etched from years of grieving
Filling them to full
And overflowing
As if this grace
This instance of kindness
Had been building
Two decades
Waiting and now
Grace fall
With a force
Greater than
The deep-rooted distress
The consolation profound
Complete
And I begin to love being on the inside
Of this weathered brown cocoon
For this is where I sense His presence
This is where I’m finding His approval
Approval that had been present all along
I have found my place in His kingdom
A useful place
For even this simple place of being
Comes with
Responsibility
I am to live in my cocoon
With a certain quality
Distinctive to those
Who do not give up seeking to please Him
And what does He require
But for me to love Him
To live with grace
Love kindness
And walk humbly with my God
And I begin to notice
As I yield
To the mystery of change
And alteration
Sharp edges of the brittle shell
Become more pliable
Turning into a silken woven mesh
Offering me a secure place to rest
And so that is why
On this cold January morning
My pace quickens
My steps grow lighter
His presence
Overshadows
The weariness of my tired muscles
My sandals
Scarcely touching the ground
For before I know it
He reaches down
Scooping me up, cocoon and all
I’m caught up
Onto his extended wings
There is joy as
We soar
Together
Into the morning sky
I hear the words He spoke
To those walking in the wilderness
“I carried you on eagles’ wings
And brought you to myself.”
I have not been released from my cocoon
But I am no longer reluctant to tell you
About life in here
I have come to discover
Life actually does exist
In this confined
Restricted space
It now seems of no great consequence
Whether one prefers
To write of butterflies or cocoons
In the end neither is the focal point
Because as the spotlight shifts to
Center stage
All I see is the
Creator
His care
His kindness
It no longer matters that I am confined
For He is sufficient to sustain
My current state of being
The immanent great I AM
Radiates right through
The dark casing
His presence infusing
Contentment
Purpose
Value
Simply in the fact
That
I am.
It’s through so many tears I share this poem with you. It first reached me amid chronic pain and illness and self-hatred, then years later in postpartum depression, and now, in the slow understanding of what it means “to just be.”
I hope it reaches you in some way, today.
