She Says She's Not a Jesus Girl

I'm not a Jesus girl. At least, not in any traditional sense. I do not attend church, unless it is at my Mother's rare request. Yet, I find myself highly attracted to much of the architecture and art and decor used to create the hallowed walls of churches. So, here's the irony. It's Easter week and I feel like I'm dying. Figuratively.

Angst is rampant and I just may be carving out some ulcers. All because I make the regular and silly proclamation to the Universe at large that I would like to grow and better myself and move beyond my fears. No existing in a state of peace and bliss for this girl. Oh, no. Let's see how far up the path I can go. But sometimes, on that path, an abyss stretches forth. To move beyond the abyss requires a leap of faith. To leap requires letting go of the life and the cocoon I exist in. Letting go feels like death. Hence the angst.

I'm staring at an abyss this week, wondering and wavering. I'm assessing my levels of courage. I'm weighing my options. I'm eating and sleeping poorly. I'm feeling nostalgic about my cocoon. But I know myself. Forward is my only direction. Even if I bring ulcers along.

I'm not a Jesus girl. But I'm aware of the coincidental timing and example. To allow new life to emerge, death is the price to be paid. So I stand at the abyss and read a scrap of paper that floated out of a mountainous pile on my desk~ "She let her world fall apart, her world turn to mush. In the falling and the mush, her heart was healed. And she became the butterfly queen".

With luck and eyes closed, by Friday, I may just have made the leap. By Sunday, I'll be looking for butterflies on the far side of the abyss.

{Stained glass windows from: Westminster Presbyterian Church in Buffalo, NY.}