(I have a folder where I kept every one.  I also spent a few days one summer deleting every “>”, until my dad taught me about “Find and Replace,” but that’s another story.)

This one has been a particular inspiration to me lately:

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole.

Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.

So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.

The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

See, I am the butterfly. And grad school is the cocoon.

I’m struggling, struggling, struggling to get out.  And some days I’d really like for the cocoon to be cut open – just a little bit wider.  But that wouldn’t do the trick, would it?

I’m reminded of my mother’s favorite quote from The Producers: “Why you miserable, cowardly, wretched little caterpillar! Don’t you ever want to become a butterfly?”

I do!

And it turns out that struggling is a part of the process.

Even though it’s annoying and difficult that there’s very little direction for this path through grad school, it’s forcing me to grow wings!  Every effort I make at finding my own way makes me more able to do so down the road.  Every time I struggle through planning what to say at a meeting, it gets easier.  Every experiment that fails teaches me how to do the next one better.

Each struggle makes  it possible for me to fly!

While I’ve hardly met her, I know so much about her from her family.  I know that she and Papa went to a movie theater on their honeymoon, but neither could remember what movie they saw (“I wasn’t watching the movie, grandson”).  I know that she sewed my mother-in-law’s wedding dress.  I know that she loved flowers and gardening, and that her favorite color was pink.  I know that she painted her dining room mural, read to her grandchildren, and dominated at 42.  In her handwritten notes under pictures dating back to her own childhood, I feel I have come to see some of her personality.

Though I know many things about her, I can feel her love for the Lord.  She was a passionate lover of Jesus, always serving, often rejoicing in song.  I know that my father-in-law learned his steady, faithful love for God from his mother, who enveloped her daughter-in-law in this love, too.  My in-laws then nurtured that love for God in their son, my husband.  (And all of them can sing - oh, can they sing praise!!!)  I know Nana is so proud of the way her grandson serves and talks with his Lord every day.

–

I have been blessed to have not attended many funerals in my life.  The one I remember most vividly was so sad – a friend’s mother taken much too young.  We did “mourn with hope” because we knew she had gone Home; still, the mourning for her leaving so soon overshadowed other emotions.

This weekend, there was so much joy.  Nana has gone home!  Her long suffering with dementia and short, painful suffering with cancer are gone.  Nana’s family mourned the long “see you later” that her death means for them here, but rejoiced that she is finally in a place of healing and rest, a place where she can look on the face of the God she has loved so long.

–

My father-in-law gave his mother a wonderful send-off on Sunday morning.  He reminded all present that heaven is real - God’s promise for those of us who believe – and that Nana is where she most wanted to be.

He read this passage from Narnia’s Last Battle:

Then Aslan turned to them and said: “You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be.”

Lucy said, “We’re so afraid of being sent away, Aslan.  And you have sent us back into our own world so often.”

“No fear of that,” said Aslan.  ”Have you not guessed?”

Their hearts leapt, and a wild hope rose within them.

“There was  a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are–as you used to call it in the Shadowlands–dead.  The term is over:  the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended:  this is the morning.”

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

–

After the service, tears streaming down my face, I wrapped my mother-in-law in a hug.  She said, “I wish you could have really known her.”

I will.

Thank you, Nana, for having children and for teaching them so much about life, love, and the Lord.  You have changed my life forever through your son and grandson.  I so look forward to meeting you – mind whole – in heaven and dancing for our Lord together.

But you know what?

“God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.” – 1 Corinthians 1:27

Lord willing, these “weak” tools will bring healing to His children. God laughs with me at its absurdity.

Thinking from an eternal perspective, what is the point, the goal, the telos of medicine?
It’s an important question for anyone thinking of spending most of their life practicing it. I offer a few thoughts.

One might say, simply, that the goal of medicine is to heal. Doctors, nurses, and healers aim to cure all infections, mend all deformities, and provide relief for all genetic diseases. Going a step further, one might argue that the end goal of medicine is to prevent all disease. In the end, kill every infectious bacterium and virus. No broken bones. No Down’s syndrome. No cancer.

It sounds good, right?
As someone with more than their share of illness, this prospect sounds wonderful. No exhaustion, no migraines, no mysteries, no doctors poking and prodding and assuming.

My pathophysiology class – full of pre-meds with visions of medical miracles dancing in their heads – thought the same thing. Dr. B confronted us with the story of Julian of Norwich, a 14th century English Christian mystic.

When she was about 30 years old, Julian fell extremely ill with an unspecified illness. Those around her thought she would die. (With the Black Death raging all through Europe during Julian’s lifetime, they had good reason.) During her illness, she saw visions of Jesus.
She later recovered from her illness, and those visions of Christ fueled the rest of her life. Her writings about her visions affected many, and her contemporaries sought her counsel. Some sources claim she became an anchoress of the church, which meant she shut herself in a tiny room adjoining the church for the rest of her life to pray, study, and give advice to seekers.
We know her today for her most famous quote: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

With modern medicine, Julian’s illness likely could have been prevented. We could have given her antibiotics as soon as she showed symptoms, and she never would have fallen on her deathbed at 30.
With that, we might have denied Julian her visions and the world her writings.
What, then, is the ultimate goal of medicine?

Dr. B gave us this story to question our assumptions, not to argue against treating patients, and it certainly gave me pause.
In my own case, I’m not sure what I would say. Having lived with it for nearly 1/3 of my life, West Nile and its after-effects have shaped my personality, my abilities, and my drive. But, if a treatment were available at the very beginning, I could have avoided a lot of pain and worry. What would I choose?

—-

In another vein, here are my own musings on the telos of medicine. What’s the point of it?

We, as Christians, know that God will heal every disease in the new creation.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” – Revelation 21:4

“[There stood] the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” – Revelation 22:2

So what’s the point? Why treat a disease here, during someone’s brief time on earth, when a Christian will be healed fully and finally in heaven? The profession seems unimportant – healing will only be needed here on earth. Art, music, dance – those professions will endure.

I have come to the conclusion that the point is to do in some small measure what God will do fully and finally at the end of time. The point is to end up without a job! In a great and wonderful mystery, God allows medical practitioners to help bring His Kingdom to earth. He allows us to participate in His redeeming and remaking of creation!
When someone receives antibiotics for tuberculosis, surgery for a broken bone, or drugs to halt a migraine, God’s Kingdom is coming to earth!  This small, temporary treatment gives a tiny glimpse of what God’s new creation will be like.

That’s inspiring.  That’s motivation to keep going.

What do y’all think? What’s the point of medicine?  It’d be especially wonderful to hear other thoughts as I’m processing motivation for my PhD!

Then was I born of a virgin pure; Of her I took fleshly substance.
Thus was I knit to man’s nature, To call my true love to my dance.
Sing O my love, This have I done for my true love.

In a manger laid and wrapped I was, So very poor this was my chance,
Betwixt on ox and a silly poor ass, To call my true love to my dance.
Sing O my love, This have I done for my true love.

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day; I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play, To call my true love to my dance.
Sing O my love, This have I done for my true love.

- Marriage has been such a natural transition for Greg and me. And that’s odd. For many couples today, marriage is just a change in legal status – where they are living and what they are doing doesn’t change dramatically. So, I can understand such couples feeling like marriage is no big change and completely “natural.”
For us, on the other hand, marriage meant radical changes! I mean, I’m living with a boy for the first time.
Our laundry gets all mixed up in the washer. We share a toothbrush holder and a mailbox. We fall asleep together for the first time.
Marrying each other was a major, life-altering event, but the transition to living and working and praying and sleeping with another human being has felt like the most natural thing in the world. (Except doing the dishes with one another, but I think I mentioned that earlier in my post discussing pre-marital counseling and submission. We’re getting better.)
I’m very thankful to God for that naturalness. We’re learning a lot about each other and how to live as a God-honoring husband and wife, but the newness doesn’t feel weird. It feels like I’m learning about a home I’ve never known until now.

- Greg does feel like home. Two months after our wedding, I took a week-long trip to the northwest for a conference. While I had a wonderful time learning and hanging out with a dear friend, the city felt dark and sad to me – like it desperately needed God’s light to pierce through. Hearing Greg’s voice when I called home was a light and warmth and peace. Thanks be to God for those who point us toward His light!

- On a lighter note, I’ve learned that Greg’s contact case looks a lot like mine when I sleepily reach for a case in the morning. It’s very confusing to put contacts in your eyes and still not be able to see.
(And it’s embarrassing to do this multiple times.)

From goldleafrestorationgilding.com

- I’ve been reminded how good and faithful God is to answer prayers that make us more like Him. One particular evening, Greg was praying out loud in his usual honest, rambling manner.

And it drove me nuts.

I started praying, Lord, help me love him. Lord, help me love him. Lord, help me love him. (I am rarely one for eloquent prayer!)
God did, by doing two things:

1. He showed me that I was getting to witness the intimate conversations between my dear husband and my even dearer Lord. Yes, it was a rambling and perhaps unclear conversation to me, but that’s because it was real. What a privilege to listen to the tender heart of my husband pouring out his inmost thoughts to the One he loves the most!!

2. He showed me how to pray with Greg.  I’ve always been one to pray in images: I picture people where they are, and I see God come close and touch them. I see visions of portions of heaven and feel God’s love. I (try to) envision just how big God is, and how His arms wrap around the whole universe.

So, when Greg was praying, God gave me an image of my prayers dancing around the text of Greg’s prayers like a sprite. A dainty, graceful sprite that leaves gold-leaf filigree in her wake around the letters of Greg’s prayer.  It illuminates them. It was beautiful to see how my image-prayers complemented his heartfelt-words.

And now my dear husband has finished his homework (comments on marriage during grad school another time), and I’m off to make sure our contacts go in the proper cases.

This happened to me with the story of Jesus walking on the water.  Here’s the passage for you to read again, to see if you see what I saw (say that five times fast):

Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd.  And after he had taken leave of them, he went up on the mountain to pray. And when evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and he was alone on the land. And he saw that they were making headway painfully, for the wind was against them. And about the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. He meant to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the sea they thought it was a ghost, and cried out, for they all saw him and were terrified. But immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”  And he got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.  - Mark 6:45-52

I saw, “He meant to pass by them” in verse 48.

Why did he do that?  Why did he set out, walking on the water, intending not to encounter anyone at all?

Here’s how my mind sees it*: Jesus is standing on the shore thinking something like, “I need to cross the lake tonight to meet the disciples on the other side.  Hmm… should I borrow a boat?  Swim?  No, I know!  I’ll walk on the surface of the lake!  That sounds quite fun!  I’ll just pass on by their boat – no one has to know.”

G.K. Chesterton writes, “…There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth” (from Orthodoxy).

I really like this image of God: Jesus, in a child-like state of delight, deciding to walk across the water just because He can.  Wouldn’t you?

*Here, I’m focusing on Christ’s humanity ignoring His deity, because His deity is not bound by time.  He knew when he set out that he would not pass by the disciples, and that the resulting encounter would give instruction, encouragement, and awe to the disciples and countless people who came after.  I’m also not accounting for the statement, “He saw that they were making headway painfully.”  I’m instead using this instance as a springboard to ponder Christ’s joy.

Obviously, this cellular phenomenon applies to us multi-cellular organisms, too. Sanctus Real’s simple lyrics in the song We Need Each Other express this idea. Humans were not created to live in isolation – we need friends and family to push our buttons, pull us out of bed, wrap us in bear hugs, and send us the message of, “You are not alone.”  It’s how we survive.

My veil.

In the months leading up to our wedding, Greg and I discussed how unreal it felt. How all the preparations seemed like we were getting ready to play roles, and the outfits felt like costumes or dress-up clothes. It couldn’t really be us getting married, could it?

From http://beautyandthegroom.com/children-presence-at-the-wedding/

We spent a lot of time letting the reality of our upcoming marriage try to sink in. It really was us getting married! There were a lot of moments of things “getting real”: asking for addresses, sending out Save the Dates, picking out my dress, Greg moving down, taking bridal portraits, getting gifts, etc., etc.

In some measure, the reality sank in (and is still sinking in as we learn what living with another person is like!). We did get married. We stood before God, our pastor, our family, and our friends and made a covenant with one another. It’s his last name I sign every day. Greg and I will be living the effects of that one promise for the rest of our lives.

But, in another sense, getting married is playing a role. Playing a grand, cosmic role!

God has seen fit to call the church His Bride. The Bride of Christ! The one for whom He has laid down His very life, the one whom He purified and made radiant and spotless.
And on the day Greg and I married, we were playing roles – that of Christ and His Church. We play-acted for everyone there the great, crazy, impossible story of God’s love for us. And in learning to love one another better throughout our marriage, we’re learning and displaying God’s love more and more.