Today, I let them go.

Our painted lady butterflies began hatching on Wednesday, the last day of school. I was so excited that the kids got to see them after they emerged from their cocoons. They were not all out by the time the bell rang, though, so I waited until today to release them.
There was one that did not make it, and another that had not been ready to make his temporary home when the rest of them did. He was a "late-bloomer," and had needed a little more time. Since they had been in a cup as caterpillars, once they attached to the paper in the lid, we removed them and pinned it to the side of the butterfly net. This one little guy was a little slower, so I placed a paper towel on top of the cup, hoping he would make it. Within the next day or two he had climbed to the top, hung upside down, and began his transformation process-just on a different time table than the rest of his friends.

Today, before I closed my classroom door for the last time this year, I took them outside to our school's garden to let them go. I unzipped the little side pocket, and let one light on my finger, then eased it out the side. I then realized the whole top of the netted cage would open, making their release much easier.

One by one, the found their way to the top and reached the vast world around them. The very last one was slower to find his way, so I guided him to the top. The "late-bloomer" was still in the process of transformation, so I carefully placed him on a tomato plant, hoping he finds his way in another day or so.

As I watched the wings flutter in the breeze, with the sun shining above, I thought of several things:
First, I thought of my "babies" who I had released two days ago. My precious first graders. With the tragedy at Sandy Hook at Christmas, and then the recent Oklahoma tornadoes, it has been a hard year. These little lives that had been entrusted to me now needed to be released from their time with me, where I pray some transformation took place in their lives, both in academics and character. Tears were in my eyes and several of theirs on Wednesday, as we said our goodbyes. 
Next, I of course thought of all the seniors who walked across stages this week. A huge part of their transformation has taken place in their own homes and environments. Now it is time for them to spread their wings and fly, soaring to new heights and undiscovered lands. 
Then, I thought of those today who were honored at our luncheon today, serving a combined total of over 200 years of service in education. It was now their time to fly, and move on to whatever life brings them next. I thought about other teacher friends, who are leaving us for different reasons- marriage, transfers, or other callings. Each a beautiful "painted lady," fluttering to new flowers.
I thought of my own two little caterpillars, though, not really caterpillars anymore. They are in the process of changing and growing, and are both going to be hovering at the Middle School next year, which will be the first time on or both of them won't be "going to school" with me since they were babies. 

Finally, with tear filled eyes, watching these painted ladies flitter and float to places they had not been before, I thought back to the net with two zippers and the "late-bloomer" that I had placed on the tomato plant. 
All of it, a picture of life. Sometimes, many may "arrive" before others. Sometimes, it takes us a little longer to get to where we are going. Some leave the caterpillar stage, but never make it out of the cocoon. Physically speaking, God may not intend for us to. He does tell us our days were written before one of them came to be. Spiritually speaking, that is up to us. We may choose to stay in the chrysalis, never transforming into what God intends for us to be. If we do accept His extended hand of grace to us, bringing us out of our cocoons and changing us into the butterfly He planned, we will find ourselves in a net, (a.k.a, this world,) and there will always be two ways to fly- the narrow and the wide. 
The only butterfly that was able to get out of the narrow zipper was the one that was closest to it, and was able to grasp on to my finger. Those closest to the wide, top opening easily flew out with little help from me. 


Letting go. What does it look like in your life today?