Patterns of Separation

by Tamara Francis

This morning, I am reminiscing about an interval of time when a soul was placed in one’s care for a moment. I was managing a community health office and could hear talk outside the nurse’s door from one of the staff members. Already overwhelmed with the responsibility she carried, she could barely approach one of her student’s poor personal hygiene routines from home. The principal, with a heart of gold, walked into the health office and mentioned that she was going to send this student in for a visit with me and could I please comb her hair. I’ll pause here to mention that at once, I offered a prayer to know how I could help this child feel God’s love, especially when things seem unfair, and that sometimes God’s love is soap and water.

When I was about the age of this child, I was up in my grandfather’s attic with my dad. Imagine our fascination as we observed a brown butterfly chrysalis hanging from the rafters. We collected it, placed it in a clear Mason jar, and hung it from a twig, creating our own special habitat. I held the jar in my lap the entire three-hour drive home, and then we sat it on our kitchen table. The wait began.

The school principal waited until things in the health office slowed down a bit the next day and then introduced a child to me who was chatting up a storm. This kiddo appeared healthy, with a head full of lots and lots of hair. Upon closer inspection, what I observed was very thickly matted hair full of debris, tangles, and clumps. I had never seen anything quite like it, well perhaps while traveling and coming upon a homeless soul. Neglect? Or was everyone doing the best they could? What had this child been through? Who was missing in her life?

I scrambled to find a brush. None. Shampoo. None. Oh yes, a black comb.

Back to my childhood memory: Every morning, I would run into the kitchen with great anticipation to view the chrysalis dangling from the twig in that Mason jar. When I got home from my day at school, the first thing I did was check out the jar. There was a process going on that forced me to observe every detail and curve of this magnificent creation and taught me that some things needed more time, I was learning the law of ‘the wait’.

I guided the student to the bathroom sink and started rinsing this ragged mop of hair with warm water. I used the pink liquid hand soap to take the place of shampoo and paper towels to pat her hair dry. I sat this child down on one of the health office cots and proceeded to forage through her hair with the black comb. However, there was no chance that a comb was going to go through such a matted disaster. Not yet. I remember an acquaintance had given me a container of hand cream for Christmas, and it was still in my nursing bag. I massaged the hand cream into her now damp hair and then, strand by strand, began to comb out twisted, knotted, debris-filled hair. One hour and twenty minutes later, I was able to get a comb through all her hair.

Returning to my childhood, I woke up and ran straight into our kitchen. A beautiful butterfly was emerging from its dark place with such pageantry. I observed each wing unfold and stretch. The yellow and black colors contrasted beautifully; it felt like a miracle, and I was filled with a great sense of awe and adoration for this newly emerged creation.

I braided the now clean hair into two ponytails with yellow ties on the ends. Before sending this precious soul back to class, we walked over to the bathroom mirror, and as she looked at her reflection, she exclaimed, “I look like a princess,” my soul was filled with joy as she proudly walked out of the nursing office.

Back to my childhood, when I returned home from school my parents gently nudged me to let my butterfly go, let it fly away to fulfill the measure of its creation. I learned about being separated from those we love for a moment as I watched it flutter away from our front door...out into the world.... and I must admit that for a moment, my heart tugged.

My soul is filled with this feeling of gratitude for Him who waits, who makes change and our separations in life easier to bear. He, who was separated from His Father and went through more than we can comprehend, knows the raw emotions each of us goes through in this life. As we call upon Him, He will comfort us. May we each learn and grow and watch the metamorphosis and rebirth that we and others go through.

We’re here in this mortal experience to grow as much as we possibly can, and with the help of our Savior, we can overcome, change, learn, assist, and help others through whatever they need in their personal growth process. As we eventually become separated from those we love, we most likely will have a hole in our hearts, we will feel sad, we will miss their presence, and we will grieve....and....that is love, too.....missing our people is love.

I always get a thrill when I see a butterfly dance across my path and feel the wonder of existence.

Eloise

it’s been 5 years

i held you so briefly

ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes

your weeping mama clung to you so tight

your grandma’s heart tugged

a transformation of soul

forever ours

Waiting