How do you respond to the pain when a loss comes?
I asked that question, and many more, in the days after Wes died.
And that’s when the butterfly came to mind.
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“How do I start over?!”
“How do I grieve in a healthy way?”
“My kids are grown. My husband is gone. What do I do NOW?!”
Have you ever struggled to figure out what to do with the pain a loss brings?
Even a small loss has pain. Let alone a big one.
Hey! I’m just wondering … did I miss the class on how to heal? Was it in middle school?
“Okay, children, listen up. This is what you do when your heart is hurt. These simple steps, and you will always heal well from any kind of loss.”
Was it in college? “Basic Grieving Skills 101″ or “Advanced Transformation Tactics After a Loss”?
Not hardly.
I didn’t have a C-L-U-E on how to grieve. So, of course, I never did it. I did what you probably do … I stuffed it.
Each one, large or small, went down into the dark well of hurts. And very quickly got covered up again with the cement lid! I guess I figured if I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t feel it.
But, of course, they always crept back out again, the little buggers. At the most inopportune moments, their malicious tentacles would come flying out of that well, wrap around me and sting me all over. How do they DO that?? You can’t keep ‘em down!
So, I would complain. Make vows to never let that person hurt me again. Resolve to be even more in control of my life to avoid those hurts.
Did any of these tactics work for you? No? Well, they didn’t work for me, either.
But I found something that does …
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You would never think to look at a caterpillar that it could EVER become a butterfly, would you?
But it does. It goes through a transformation that changes it from being one thing – a kinda ugly little creature with limited mobility – to something of exceptional beauty and freedom, with the ability to fly for thousands of miles under extreme conditions much to the amazement of everyone.
In the same way, you would never think a loss in your life could EVER become something of beauty and value, would you?
But it can. If you’ll let it.
And it works pretty much like the transformation of a butterfly.
~~~
First, you must be willing to go through …
1. The Cocoon Phase
As soon as you experience a loss, grief wraps itself around you like a cocoon. So, like the caterpillar in his cocoon, just sit there. Let it happen. Feel it. Go though it.
Most people do anything to avoid pain. Duh! Who wouldn’t? That would make sense, wouldn’t it?
But what happens to Mr. Caterpillar who doesn’t stay in his cocoon? Sure, he can refuse the process. Eat his way out. Claw his way out. And yes, he’s still a caterpillar. But he’s not the same, is he? And neither are you. Why? Because you soon find out that you are crippled … for life. Things don’t function like they used to.
You see, loss changes you, like it or not. Either for the worse or for the better.
But have you ever experienced the joy of seeing yourself changed into something else? It’s a good feeling, huh?
Some say,
“No pain, no gain.”
or
“The pain was worth it.”
I just like being able to say,
“Whaddya know? I’m actually a better person now!”
Once you have let the cocoon do its healing work, the next step is to be willing to go through …
2. The Struggling Phase
Ever watched a butterfly emerge from her cocoon? It is a long, hard process! She struggles and struggles for hours to get her new big body out through a very small hole. But it is precisely that struggle that completes her transformation process.
Whenever some gentle, loving soul tries to make it easier on the butterfly by opening up the hole so she can easily glide out … guess what happens? She dies! The struggle is essential.
Have you ever gone through the struggle of learning new skills and new ways of thinking in order to move forward in your life? To accomplish a goal?
The end was worth the struggle, wasn’t it?
After you’ve successfully navigated the struggling phase, one last phase awaits you …
3. The Waiting Phase
And what does our glorious new butterfly do once she has exited her cocoon? Immediately fly off into the sunset?
Nope. She hangs on to the cocoon for hours. Just … waiting.
What is going on? The blood is pulsing into her wings. Wings that were weak and wet and crumpled when she came out … must become strong and straight and ready for flight.
You see, it takes T-I-M-E to practice your new skills before you are confident and strong enough to fly off into the new world you have been given.
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Most people avoid the pain of loss and are thus crippled by it.
Most people avoid the work required to learn new skills and new ways of thinking after a loss changes their lives.
And most people don’t wait long enough to develop their strength in preparation for living a new life.
~~~
How do you choose to respond to pain when a loss comes?
Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live! (Deuteronomy 30:19 NLT)
Dear Anita,
You did it again, You clued me in….. just when I need it most! I couldn’t believe it when I saw your new post, The Butterfly, after church today….. and the talk today, of course, was very relevant.
Since my husband died in 2007 I’m still healing, my thoughts are still all over the place, back and forth about “what do I really do now”?
This past week I’ve been seriously focusing on my resolve to “do something” in 2010. On 2/15 I met with someone to discuss ways I can live more simple for the rest of my life and be at peace about it. On 2/19 I went with a friend to tour 1-BR apartments. I came home and cried because it’s such a drastic change. I was angry with myself thinking of others who’ve lost their lives in a disaster, at least I have a life to change for the better.
I’ve already told myself this struggle is necessary and that I need to “wait” for peace and not be too impatient. I told myself to “be still and know that He is God” and I do trust Him. You, Anita, inspired me and reinforced the fact that with change the strength, confidence, peace and tranquility will come. Thanks.
Rose
It’s such a long process, isn’t it? No wonder we get impatient. Sometimes we just want it to be “over”, don’t we? At least I do. Thanks for sharing your heart with me, Rose. It’s so nice to know we’re not alone in our struggles.
Anita