Almost Butterflies

What do you call a caterpillar that is not yet a butterfly? 

She’s inside her chrysalis—changing, morphing, becoming new. 

She’s clearly not a caterpillar anymore...but she’s not quite a butterfly yet, either. 

She is inside herself—changing. Hidden away from the world.

Safe. 

Enveloped. 

Held. 

Everything about her is changing, becoming different, becoming new. 

The legs she used for walking every day are changing. 

How will she walk now? 

Something new and different is happening to her. 

Does she know she’s getting wings? 

Will she instinctively know how to fly or will there be a moment of hesitation? 

A moment when she tries to inch along clinging to the ground she knows so well? 

Will she have to trust herself and take a daring leap before she realizes how to use her new wings? 

Or will it be a process of attempts and possible failures? 

How will she know when she’s ready? 

Will she feel completely different and new? 

Will she just know she’s a butterfly now? 

Or will she still feel like a caterpillar made for the ground while trying to figure out how to fly through the air? 

Does she know this is what she was created for? 

Does she know she was created to fly? 

Or will she feel the need to crawl in the comfort of the known?




What do you call a caterpillar that is not yet a butterfly? 

I can’t find a common word. 

Because we don’t talk much about them. 

They are hidden. 

We don’t know what is happening deep inside because we can’t see it. 

But this is where I find myself. 

Hidden away. 

Unseen. 

Changing.

Becoming different deep down inside, becoming new. 

It’s exciting, yet a bit unsettling. 

Searching for identity in the in-between. 

Feeling the struggle and constraints of being in the middle of my process. 

Knowing soon I’ll have to make a choice—to crawl again or to fly with my new wings.

Oh, little caterpillar, safe in your chrysalis... 

Your life is about to change. 

But you are safe right now.

So be held.

Know that when the time to fly comes, you will know. 

You will take a daring leap and find yourself soaring through new adventures—yet still held.

So rest, little caterpillar. 

Let Him do the work of metamorphosis in you. 

Your only job now is to rest and trust. 

Trust the Hands that are forming you into who you were created to be. 

Trust He will be the breath under your wings when you take flight into your new tomorrow.

He has never failed and He never will.

You were created to fly, little “almost butterfly.”