Becoming Isn’t Always Visible: Lessons from a Cookie Jar of Monarchs

As I prepare to spread my wings into something new, I feel scared and, at times, frustrated with the pace of change and my impatience. And just as it often happens, Grandma Betty from above brings forth her wisdom, this time through the memory of the Monarch Incubator.

Every summer, my grandma raised butterflies. She placed an old glass cookie jar in a cool, dry, quiet space behind Grandpa's chair. The Monarch incubator sat right next to the snapping turtle she kept from her class for the summer. She gathered milkweed, placing it deep in the glass terrarium, made a little pond, and created a jungle gym of sticks for the caterpillars to hang onto as they transformed into cocoons. The top was covered with cheesecloth, and underneath, there was a tent made from her sister's old patchwork blankets.

My brothers and I were fascinated by this world under Grandpa’s chair. Our instructions were to be quiet and not tap on the glass to disturb the experiment. We were constantly peeking in, checking for eaten leaves, how much it pooped, and where it was hiding. Back and forth we would go, and magically, when we turned our backs, the chrysalis would start to crack, and a wiggling, wet, black wing would emerge.

We would scream with delight and giggle, watching the chrysalis slowly transform, changing from green to black with a rim of black around the top that resembled air holes. It’s a butterfly, slowly flap its wings, as if fanning itself into a new form, with vibrant and brilliant colors ranging from orange like Creamsicle, to yellow like bananas and white like Gilly's custard.

And when Grandma said it was strong enough, we’d go out to her garden and release it onto the snapdragons. We all held our breath as the butterfly would steady itself, attempting to take off, starting and stopping—until a gust of wind would propel the butterfly into the world. We all cheered, sending it wishes for a safe journey ahead. And while it seemed the transformation happened overnight, there were stages it went through until the butterfly emerged in its own time.

Change may not be immediately visible, but we are always undergoing transformation. So, the next time you find yourself feeling impatient or frustrated with your progress, take a deep breath and remember the monarch butterfly. Life has its own process, and things don't happen overnight. What you can control is creating a supportive environment for yourself, having a dark place to recharge, a safe place to test your wings, and surrounding yourself with people who encourage you to steady yourself to fly.

Today, be kind to yourself. It takes 30 days for a caterpillar to transform, and while we may want to get to the good stuff and see that butterfly, she needed all those steps to be able to fly HIGH! 

You've got this! 🦋