Amanda81
Active member
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2012
- Messages
- 57
- Reason
- Loved one DX
- Diagnosis
- 12/2012
- Country
- US
- State
- IL
- City
- Central IL
I had a distant family member who suffered from cancer. She had just been told she would have her 17th surgery to remove more cancer from her lungs. She sent this out in an update on her health because she was often asked how she could continue to go through all that she's been through and not give up. It's a beautiful story and one, I believe, many of you could relate to.
My mom was not on the mailing list, so she has never read this. I sent it to her last night after she sent me a text about how she choked at a dinner with friends. She is miserable and is waiting on pins and needles to hear from our 2nd opinion in St. Louis.
I hope at least one person will find hope in this story. I received it in 2009 and find myself going back to it when times are tough.
Enjoy.
(Taken from a book called Steams in the Desert)
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18)
I once kept a bottle-shaped cocoon of an emperor moth for nearly one year. The cocoon was very strange in its construction. The neck of the "bottle" had a narrow opening through which the mature insect forces its way. Therefore the abandoned cocoon is as perfect as one still inhabited, with no tearing of the interwoven fibers having taken place. The great disparity between the size of the opening and the size of the imprisoned insect makes a person wonder how the moth ever exists at all. Of course, it is never accomplished without great labor and difficulty. It is believed the pressure to which the moth's body is subjected when passing through such a narrow opening is nature's way of forcing fluids into the wings, since they are less developed at the time of emerging from the cocoon than in other insects.
I happened to witness the first efforts of my imprisoned moth to escape from its long confinement. All morning I watched it patiently striving and struggling to be free. It never seemed to be able to get beyond a certain point, and at last my patience was exhausted. The confining fibers were probably drier and less elastic than if the cocoon had been left all winter in its native habitat, as nature meant it to be. In any case, I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, so I resolved to give it a helping hand. With the point of my scissors, I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a little easier. Immediately and with perfect ease, my moth crawled out dragging a huge swollen body and little shriveled wings! I watched in vain to see the marvelous process of expansion in which these wings would silently and swiftly develop before my eyes. As I examined the delicately beautiful spots and markings of various colors that were all there in miniature, I longed to see them assume their ultimate size. I looked for my moth, one of the loveliest of its kind, to appear in all its perfect beauty. But I looked in vain. My misplaced tenderness had proved to be its ruin. The moth suffered an aborted life, crawling painfully through its brief existence instead of flying through the air on rainbow wings.
I have thought of my moth often, especially when watching with tearful eyes those who were struggling with sorrow, suffering, and distress. My tendency would be to quickly alleviate the discipline and bring deliverance. O shortsighted person that I am! How do I know that one of these pains or groans should be relieved? The farsighted, perfect love that seeks the perfection of its object does not weakly shrink away from present, momentary suffering. Our Father's love is too steadfast to be weak. Because He loves His children, He "disciplines us ... that we may share in his holiness" (Hebrews 12:10). With this glorious purpose in sight, He does not relieve our crying. Made perfect through suffering, as Jesus was, we children of God are disciplined to make us obedient, and brought to glory through much tribulation.
My mom was not on the mailing list, so she has never read this. I sent it to her last night after she sent me a text about how she choked at a dinner with friends. She is miserable and is waiting on pins and needles to hear from our 2nd opinion in St. Louis.
I hope at least one person will find hope in this story. I received it in 2009 and find myself going back to it when times are tough.
Enjoy.
(Taken from a book called Steams in the Desert)
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18)
I once kept a bottle-shaped cocoon of an emperor moth for nearly one year. The cocoon was very strange in its construction. The neck of the "bottle" had a narrow opening through which the mature insect forces its way. Therefore the abandoned cocoon is as perfect as one still inhabited, with no tearing of the interwoven fibers having taken place. The great disparity between the size of the opening and the size of the imprisoned insect makes a person wonder how the moth ever exists at all. Of course, it is never accomplished without great labor and difficulty. It is believed the pressure to which the moth's body is subjected when passing through such a narrow opening is nature's way of forcing fluids into the wings, since they are less developed at the time of emerging from the cocoon than in other insects.
I happened to witness the first efforts of my imprisoned moth to escape from its long confinement. All morning I watched it patiently striving and struggling to be free. It never seemed to be able to get beyond a certain point, and at last my patience was exhausted. The confining fibers were probably drier and less elastic than if the cocoon had been left all winter in its native habitat, as nature meant it to be. In any case, I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, so I resolved to give it a helping hand. With the point of my scissors, I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a little easier. Immediately and with perfect ease, my moth crawled out dragging a huge swollen body and little shriveled wings! I watched in vain to see the marvelous process of expansion in which these wings would silently and swiftly develop before my eyes. As I examined the delicately beautiful spots and markings of various colors that were all there in miniature, I longed to see them assume their ultimate size. I looked for my moth, one of the loveliest of its kind, to appear in all its perfect beauty. But I looked in vain. My misplaced tenderness had proved to be its ruin. The moth suffered an aborted life, crawling painfully through its brief existence instead of flying through the air on rainbow wings.
I have thought of my moth often, especially when watching with tearful eyes those who were struggling with sorrow, suffering, and distress. My tendency would be to quickly alleviate the discipline and bring deliverance. O shortsighted person that I am! How do I know that one of these pains or groans should be relieved? The farsighted, perfect love that seeks the perfection of its object does not weakly shrink away from present, momentary suffering. Our Father's love is too steadfast to be weak. Because He loves His children, He "disciplines us ... that we may share in his holiness" (Hebrews 12:10). With this glorious purpose in sight, He does not relieve our crying. Made perfect through suffering, as Jesus was, we children of God are disciplined to make us obedient, and brought to glory through much tribulation.
