Butterfly Wings
by Elouise
Emerging from my cocoon
last night before I slept,
my eyes devour treasure
hidden in cards and notes
scattered among my
now ancient relics
As I read them slowly
a door finally cracks open
to reality larger than life,
despite my deep fear
of failure and a similar yet
heavier fear of success
This morning I wake to
flaws and old age staring
back at me from my mirror,
daring me to forego
daily beautifying rituals
meant to atone for my faults
My heart skips a beat —
not because of this poignant
reflection but because I
finally recognize a glimmer
of butterfly wings
springing from my back
It wasn’t easy growing up in the 1940s and 50s. During and after World War II, severity was called for. This meant daily care of Victory Gardens. Mending and passing along used clothes and shoes. Not wasting anything. And, in my case, full attention to the military-like heaviness of my clergy father’s rules for good girls.
As a clergyman, Dad chose not to be a soldier in Uncle Sam’s army. He believed he was in the only army that mattered — God’s army. Joining Uncle Sam’s army was like deserting God’s army.
I wasn’t the only World War II baby born into a culture of strict rations and homegrown Victory Gardens. Food was often hard to come by. Gardens had to be plowed, planted and weeded. And children, like gardens, also had to be plowed and weeded.
The upshot was simple. No vanity, no wasting time, no over-indulgence. Just noses stuck to the grindstone of everyday recovery from the horrors of World War II. Like other children born into this era, I learned to keep my nose to the grindstone, think of myself as part of a small army of obedient girls and boys, and forget about the fancy stuff our family could never afford.
It made for outstanding work habits. It didn’t make for easy enjoyment of parties or silliness in the workplace. Even worse, it took away the joy of being a young mother.
So there I was yesterday evening, reading cards and notes I’ve kept over the years. Finally acknowledging that I did something beautiful and did, indeed, have great fun from time to time–despite the heaviness of my work ethic.
In fact, I’m having more fun now than I’ve ever had in my life. Thanks to friends and family members who keep showing me how it’s done.
Elouise♥
©Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 June 2021
Photo found at commons.wikipedia.com
I’m so glad for your fun these days. Keep having it! 🙂
You ARE a butterfly…delicate, yet strong, tender, flying, wise, beautiful…and you bring joy to the world 🙂
(((HUGS)))
🦋 🦋 🦋
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I’m doing my best! To choose fun, that is. 🙂 Also practicing being a butterfly! 🙂
Blessings and hugs to you and yours…
Elouise
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This is a great poem, Elouise, and an even greater commentary!
I have been preparing for a shredding event (which I sincerely hope happens soon!), and re-reading many, many things – the past is always so much fuller than I remember at any given time! Thank you for this. Enjoy taking kind care of yourself, and enjoy the sprouting of your wings! I can fly in my sleep (I can also breathe under water)…here’s to flying – above the earth and under the waves! 😉
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Yes, indeed! (“The past is always so much fuller…) I also find some of it heart-wrenching (in a good way), and other parts very sad. Still, I don’t regret for one moment becoming an invasive Presbyterian woman in an American Baptist seminary serving students from multiple denominations and countries. As for flying on my own (for no pay!), I definitely need the practice–which, to my utter amazement, is usually quite wonderful! It’s like finally breathing out without worrying where the next breath will come from. If that makes sense…. 🙂
Happy shredding!
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What you describe about the ‘silliness’ – that is exactly my feeling. And about experiencing joy, too.
I don’t know – it’s all a puzzle to me. What God has called us to.
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Hi, D. Your last line says it all, including our silliness and joy when they happen to make their unpredictable appearances! 💐
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