Everything is Inside

The subzero temperatures have kept me indoors with shades clamped shut against the howling winds. I’ve been wearing an outdoor scarf doubled around my neck in the house, yet my fingertips remain cold. The only place to go is inside my head—to the possibilities of spring.

When I contemplate plants, I realize they contain all that is necessary to continue life anew through seeds, bulbs, corms, rhizomes, roots. When I ruminate on caterpillars, I realize they also possess all they need for complete transformation. Everything is inside.

I also have everything I need to transform into the person I was meant to be. I may not recognize this at first. After all, does a seed look anything like a flower? Does a caterpillar remotely resemble a moth or a butterfly?

If I keep “at it”—feed on spiritual exercise, bask in wonder, continually give thanks for God’s abundance—change is inevitable. I’m even beginning to see a different person when I look in the mirror. My smooth skin now has a pattern of dots and lines. It’s only a matter of time before I feel bumps rising from my shoulder blades. By then, I’ll be ready to fly.

Photo 1: Quaking oat grass. Photo 2: American dagger moth caterpillar; great swallowtail caterpillar; yellow woolly bear caterpillar. Photo 3: Giant leopard moth caterpillar; turbulent phosphila caterpillar; dogbane tiger moth caterpillar. Photo 4: Tent caterpillars; smeared dagger moth caterpillar. All photos © Sondra Sula.

Living in Brokenness

Near the North Aurora dam there is a big crack in the ice. The crack extends out from the east edge, cutting a diagonal line that ends mid-river, at the mouth of the dam. Water from underneath the ice flows down and over the shallow dam. This crack creates a large triangle, about two hundred feet on its longest side.

I imagine this triangle, this massive chunk of ice, cracking off. How exciting and frightening it would be to see it come crashing down the tiny falls, breaking into smaller pieces. I imagine the noise, the piercing cracks, the pushing of air from the wings of surprised mallards, geese, and herons, and the immense splashes of solid hitting liquid. All of this would take place rather quickly and then things would gradually go back to the way they were.

Sometime in our lives, we are living with a crack. We’re so afraid of a part of us breaking off and flowing down the river. We’re afraid of the repercussions, of getting hurt, of hurting others. But God is with us. Even when the piece breaks off. Even as we gradually get back to whom we once were. Even if we’ve changed and that triangle of us is forever gone, God remains with us.

This blog is an excerpt from my latest book: Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond: A Daily Devotional, sold through Amazon.
Artwork: “St. Teresa’s Egg Cup” by Sondra Sula. All photos © Sondra Sula.

Wholly Holy

“Holy Leaf” by Sondra Sula

As I looked down at my feet, trying not to slip in the snow, I noticed a single brown leaf pocked with holes and began to wonder what makes us holy.

Is it our porousness? Allowing God to move through us is certainly a good thing. When we follow the little nudgings, the intuitive parts of ourselves that may lead us in the opposite direction from logic, we discover new paths that would have been blocked if we were sealed up and slick.

Is it our willingness to let go of the branch? Trust definitely plays a part in our relationship with the Divine. When we go out on a limb for something we believe in, we must be willing to commit ourselves fully.

Is it our striving for wholeness? We would all like to feel complete, as if nothing is missing from us. And perhaps our feeling of incompleteness is simply an illusion. Perhaps in God’s eyes we are wholly holy now, just as we are, in this very moment.