homecoming

Ever study a cocoon? It hangs, dead-like, from a twig. Like a 3-D leaf, a cocoon reveals none of what lies inside. It might sway in a puff of wind and appear about to fall. But it clings miraculously until finally, at the right time and so slowly, life happens. A butterfuly emerges: sleepy at first; moving, stretching its way into the world. Trying and trusting her wings to carry her. It's a miracle only God could orchestrate.


Our daughter Katie has been experiencing college for three months now. No cell phone calls or weekends home: she's been across the ocean in Ireland. In two days, she'll fly home and once again occupy her room, her bed, and our lives.

For many years, Katie reminded me of a cocoon. Quiet and unassuming. Unmoving and clinging to the familiar. Often alone in the wind, but persevering. And waiting, waiting for precisely her time to emerge with beauty and grace.

While overseas, Katie explored and traveled, shot 7,000 photographs, broke her nose and spent a night in a hospital, got to know Irish culture and people, pulled all-nighters to finish assignments, stretched her intellect and built amazing friendships. She's had to lean on new friends and on God.

Tuesday night, our butterfly comes home. We can't wait to see her!