Retro-metamorphosing

Lately I have felt like a butterfly
retro-metamorphosing.
I don't think that's a word, but you get it.
I am crawling back into the cocoon when I should
be flying. 
I like my cocoon, it is warm and safe and
safe and did I say safe?
Safe is good.
No one can hurt you when your in your cocoon.


So Sunday morning I was all cuddled in my safe
little cocoon...and had an episode of 
caccoondities: I don't want to fly to church!
I want to stay safe.


So the thoughts poured all day long, then I read
this story, which lead to more thoughts which 
lead to a memory that calmed my heart.
Here goes:


There was once a little girl,
who grew up in a tip top tidy home, with
a mother who expected no less than perfection.


Her mother was expecting guests one day and the
usual routine of sterile cleaning was ordered. 
Carpets with straight lines, polished mirrors
and scrubbed floors awaited the perfect polished
women who would be admiring them.


The little girl was to stay up stairs in her room
until the party was over.


She went to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, 
jut as she had been taught, only the faucet would
not turn off. Water was quickly flowing over the 
sink, but she knew better than to interrupt her 
mother for help.


In her fear to reach out for help, to the one person
that could help her,
she hid beneath the bed.
And true to the law of consequences, the entire
upstairs was flooded.


Sometimes I hide.  A lot of times I hide.
Afraid that because I have let down his
expectations of me, I am not worthy for 
his assistance.  That some how, for some
reason, I have to do it on my own.
Stinkin thinkin...I know, but sometimes
I think it all the same.




I feel her pain, her shame and her fear more than
I care to admit.  My faucet has been leaking way to long.
I try to stuff it, plug it, bail it out, but I am certain that I am 
not good enough just yet, to ask the Lord for help.
I got myself into this mess...
I'll get myself out...(not)


I will ask him when I am more faithful with my scriptures,
or get to the temple.
But wait...I just stuffed myself with brownies...hmmm...
maybe I better wait till tomorrow...I'll be worthy for his 
help tomorrow.
And the  lie goes on.


The last 5 years have tried and tested me to my very breaking
point.  My identity has taken a huge blow,  I keep bobbing in the surf
of the storm, waiting for my faith to be strengthened so I can be "Whole."
But I am not "whole", so I am embarrassed to ask God for his help 
Again, so....


I hide.


In chocolate, in sleep, in movies, in songs, in errands.  Why is it I keep hiding
inside the pain?  Why is it that every time good things come around, I am
afraid to embrace them?  Why do I stuff stuff stuff my emotions, until I am numb?


Because I forget to ask him to turn off my faucet...that's why.


Anyhow.  In the middle of these thoughts yesterday a memory
came to me.  I think mom stuck it in my head so I could remember
what I forget sometimes...Love.  His Love.




I had a dream sometime ago.
A small little girl, with tears running down
her dirty face, was looking through me...
piercing my heart.
I knew those eyes...because they were mine.


I was hiding in a willow tree along a river,
long branches were dangling in the water
and slowly starting to change colors.
I was crying, and afraid to come down from the
tree.


Then I saw my mother, she was in a long white peasant
type dress, she was glorious and radiant and...so peaceful.
She held out her arms
and I jumped into them.


She picked up some fallen leaves and handed them to me,
There was an understanding between us. No words were
exchanged.


Each leaf represented an unwanted memory, anger, regret, 
disappointments, pain, and all the little sorrows that added up to 
my stiff heart.
She motioned for me to let them go down the river, to release
them far from my grasp.


I let them go, one by one.


The sun was slowly fading, and light was falling
along the river and shining upon each leaf as it drifted
far from me.
  
The willow branches turned white as snow
and I slept in my mothers arms with the
promise that tomorrow there would be peace, love, forgiveness,
and renewal.


I was free.
I was safe.
I was brave again.


My conclusion :
(after mulling over such obsurd, stinkin-thinkin)


I am enough for God today...Just the way I am.
Brownies and all:)


He will turn off my faucet when it becomes
to much for me.


...and that is enough indeed.
Besides...I can't afford another flood:)