Battling Comfortable

I was once a big, fat, ugly, juicy and bad-tasting caterpillar.
It's true. I was!

Ok, ok... of course, I'm not being literal, but there are moments, when I want to go back into my nice, warm, safe, toasty, snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug cocoon and turn back into a lazy little worm. I mean, doesn't that sound just wonderful? Snoozing the day away, without a thought or care, safe and insulated from the outside world?

Not only that, but bad things happen far less to big, fat, ugly, juicy and bad-tasting caterpillars than they do to other insects. Take beetles for instance... I mean, when was the last time you ever saw a caterpillar skewered to cork board, sitting under squeaky-clean plates of glass where hundreds of people file by remarking how beautiful their little dead bodies are?

And no one picks on you, really. Humans (at least the big ones) think you're disgusting for the most part and try to avoid you. Most birds have already made the mistake of trying to eat your great-great-great-great-grandparents, so they leave you alone too. Matter of fact, although you may look quite plump, one brazen flash of your chubby, colorful little legs, would send most of the animal kingdom into a tizzied state of panic. How many other creatures can command that kind of respect just by one little giggly-wiggly move?

Being a big, fat caterpillar allows you some serious luxuries. You can laze around as much as you want, eat a little of this, munch on a bit of that... lay around and roll from side to side occasionally, maybe the odd little ipity-bipity to get you to the next leaf, etc. You don't have to answer to a queen (unless you're a boy caterpillar) which means you don't have to work or measure up to any one's expectations, so life is pretty laid back. You're safe in your own little caterpillar world, doing your own little caterpillar thing.

Most days, the caterpillar in me is hugantic, past gianormous. I'd love to stretch my fat little legs out on a nice juicy leaf and eat until I roll off, maybe land on a cushy little tomato where I could sunbathe awhile, flash a bird or two, make some feathers fly - you know... all that fun, comfortable, easy, no-effort-necessary kind of stuff.

I'm half ashamed to say that sadly, a good majority of my daily thoughts are about how I can get back to being comfortable, which is LAME given I live amongst the world's top 5% of wealthiest people (which means I'm exceedingly comfortable by the worlds standards - just living in America qualifies most of us for this category). Where was I? Oh yes... LAME...

Why is it that we are not born with a "I-am-content" gene somewhere in our genetic make-up? I mean, what rocket scientist dreamed up the saying, "enough is enough" - everybody should know by now, enough is never enough! It's our nature to always want more.

I love watching kids sometimes. They act like miniature adults at times, except without the inhibitions or conscience. How many times have we seen the kid with the boat look at the kid with the car and drop his boat to go for the car. But when the kid with the car lets the kid with the boat (who doesn't really have the boat anymore because he dropped it to go after the kid with the car) have his car, the kid with the car (who used to have the boat) wants the boat back. Seriously, I think we all want the car AND the boat... except for those of us who want planes...

I get so tired of battling myself. I find one minute I'm spouting ideals of how we should all be more concerned with other people, especially those who cannot help themselves, then, five minutes later, I'm whining about not having enough whipped cream on my strawberry shortcake. (eye roll) You big, fat Caterpillar! (munch munch munch)

Of all the scores of mind-battles I endeavor to win each day, I find myself always battling this one the most. I slowly crawl, eking ever closer towards desiring to be less caterpillar... maybe a bit more butterfly, then I revert completely back into my wormy old self. A few moments later, the transformation starts again - sometimes I make it all the way to butterflyville before I - poof! - I am transported back to square one in caterpillarland. At that point, sometimes I'm so sick of my failings, all I want to do is bury my little fat self in my cocoon, hoping that some magical transformation will occur. But that's not exactly the way it works...

It's not easy. It's definitely not comfortable, but in the long run, isn't it worth it? Why stay an earthbound worm when we are given the chance to fly? Do we stay in our cocoons out of ignorance, pride or fear, only to later discover that we missed out on the most beautiful Thing life had to offer?

And so the question becomes, will I, an ugly caterpillar, reach out and take hold of the Hand of the One who can wholly transform me into something maybe not as easy, maybe something not as tough, but guaranteed and without a doubt something far more lovely than what I am now? Can I trust this One will truly do what He is promising to do? Isn't what I have to lose far less than what I have to gain? Then why is this so difficult?

And so remains the second by second, minute by minute decision: do I stay a big, fat, ugly, juicy, and bad-tasting caterpillar and inch my way through life seeking the same comfort that keeps me so repulsive, or do I let Him turn me into something beautiful and treasured, something that lifts off on wings of faith and makes the most of this breeze called life?