Tonight I watch a caterpillar crawl on the slippery exterior of our metal camper. It reminds me of the many little creatures our boys used to call Harry and I find myself thinking, “Harry, you are a pretty one.” From a wisp of wind to a gentle breeze, which at times causes its small body to hunch, it continues its journey. Working diligently to keep a grip, even though the wind shows no mercy, it appears to move a little off tract, but quickly regains its direction. I suspect it is heading toward the leafy branches brushing the camper.
This caterpillar will have a different kind of journey to become a butterfly, yet as he perseveres, it will accomplish it. The world will know its diligence even though nature has provided the process as sure as the sun comes to us in the morning to penetrate the darkness of night.
I thought how much this is like a griever’s life. How one manages to hang on daily with a certain degree of instability as the winds of grief threaten his or her secure hold, is sometimes beyond our understanding. And yet as we move, sometimes trembling and wavering in the process, we are on the way to change and beauty.
Some would credit a loving God, while others say the logic of understanding the situation grounds them in hope. Children look to parents or caregivers to hear the truth of the situation. Some seniors’ might hold tightly to their wisdom to gain peace. There are those who would use over-used one-liners to present some kind of solution. The griever, working the process of grieving, might say there may be no answer because they have yet to discover the true question.
The caterpillar shows us that it all happens in the journey.