Breathe

This tumbled out of my backpack the other day when I was with a group of friends:

There were a few gasps. A few giggles. A few tsk-tsks.

Apparently, none of those people had a real childhood. Else they would have known this little blue capsule was nothing to tsk over. They would have known it was a Magic Capsule. They would have known the thrill of watching a seeming blob of nothingness be set free by a cup of cool water.

I like to keep these handy for the under-10 crowd. Or me.

Last night I decided to set it free.

At first it looked like this –

– which is just boring. No action. No magic. No change. Except that it’s afloat – resting gently, suspended weightless – rather than hidden in unseen corners of the dark and closed world that is my backpack. Encapsulated-but-afloat may not seem like much, but it’s a beautifully far cry from dark and hidden corners.

After about 30 minutes, it looked like this –

– which is just creepy. Like a mutant beetle struggling to shed layers of slimy skin. Or maybe like a heart that’s been smashed and caged and suffocated for years inside a soul that is lonely and lost and brittle. The inherent inner beauty can take a mighty long time to reveal itself.

After another hour or so, it looked like this –

– which is just weird. Like a cockeyed baby pterodactyl screeching in its very first flight. Or maybe like an unfolding heart that is learning to trust and breathe sweet air for the very first time. The steadied balance can take a mighty long time to discover.

A little later, it looked like this –

– which is just confusing. A plane? A sword? An inverted mythological thunderbird? Or maybe a bundle of unknown possibilities, like a heart that is just starting to unfurl its wings and sip the promises of love and life and re-creation.

Finally, it looked like this –

– which (as best I can tell) is a magically-capsuled-sponge-version of the delicate miracle known as a dragonfly.

Its proportions aren’t quite right. Its details are sorely lacking. Its shape is rather fuzzy. Its color is all wrong –

– much like my heart that will need a lifetime of pruning and shaping and transforming and refining before resembling anything close to what it was originally meant to be.

The more I learn of God and draw near to Him, the more aware I become of just how tightly and terribly encapsulated my heart really is. What a bittersweet irony.

But what a sweet opposing irony is this: the more dependent on Him I become, the more free I really am.

The end result of my heart’s transformation is a lifetime away. Until then, each and every stage of the process – whether sorrowful or sweet – is a miracle of my re-making.

Welcome to Love. Welcome to Life. Welcome to Freedom.

© Crystal Kirgiss 2013