“God is knitting our hearts together – but it turns out stitches hurt, and
what goes on inside a ‘cocoon’ is messy.” My mother e-mailed that to a
friend when she asked how things were going.

We’ve glimpsed a sweetness in my sister that is wonderful, but we’re
grieving hard – and this grief is coming out like anger. I was recently
asked to share my post “Broken”, and I feel guilty about it because I
don’t feel that way now.

But I’m realizing that I still love her – a brutal kind of love that holds
on when everything turns ugly.  A love that sometimes almost feels like
hate.  And Mama told me the fact that I get this worked up about her
behavior is good – because IT IS WRONG so it shows I know what’s right.

But that doesn’t mean I can act on my feelings. And what makes things worse
is that no one else does either.  I just sit there and watch this grief
come out and wish someone would do something!  But my part is going to
be hard, because I’m *inside* the cocoon. And all these people are asking,
“How’s it going?” while they’re waiting for it to pop open…. And I want
to say “awful” but I smile and say “good” because, considering, it is – and
people don’t understand what Lucy’s been through so it isn’t fair to tell
them.

So you smile, and say “good” and tell them about the “ups.”

Someday we’re gonna’ pull outa’ this and look back and exhale. And the
brutal ugly love will give way to something beautiful and graceful without
the brokenness and ugliness.

Someday this cocoon will pop open. We’ll break out. We’ll be ready.

And someday this little butterfly and I will dance together. In the
sunshine. And we’ll forget about the time we were cooped up together with
that ugly love.

But the words of “Broken” don’t bother me that much anymore. Because I’ve
found my heart is still capable of shattering. It isn’t strong enough yet,
and I hope it never is! Our girl can still tear me apart like cobwebs when
I let her. And I probably stick to her fingers and she doesn’t know what to
do. She probably looks at the girl who says “I love you” when you yell
at her and smiles when she’s yelling on the inside, and doesn’t know what
to do – and I don’t know what to do either, and here.we.are. And we’re both
torn apart and messy, and we’re both broken, confused, and scared.

I thought I knew how to love unconditionally, and then the full force of it
hit me and I couldn’t take it. And I wonder *what in the world’s wrong with
me!* And other people reach their max and flare up, and it doesn’t shake
me; and I find myself mad at my little butterfly when she didn’t do
anything! And I don’t get it – any of it.

Things are calming down now. I’m able to look back and see progress. I’m
able to understand things a bit.

Little brother and I are grounded; little sis and I are still taking root.
We’re taking root fast, but we’re not deep yet – and Satan is trying to
pull us out and throw us away. He wants to pull us off the vine. He doesn’t
want me to love my sister, period.  But he can’t stop me.

I wish I could say I’d-like-to-see-him-try, but I have and it’s ugly. He
will always try. He has been trying – and he almost succeeded in getting us
off. But our girl doesn’t have the Branch to stay grounded in, so if I snap
we both crumble.

I have to stay strong, but I don’t feel that way. Because the world is
broken, and our girl is broken, and she’s breaking me.

Our friend wrote my Mom back:

“Stitches hurt – but they *heal*.”
Our butterfly’s wings are growing, and I’m struck breathless by their
beauty.​

 ____________________________________

My name is Hanna Rothfuss.  I am 14 and in eighth grade.  I have lived in the suburbs of Omaha, Nebraska for my whole life.  My interests are reading and writing, mainly about fantasy and orphan care–often adoption.  I have four siblings, two of which are adopted.  I’m a homeschooler and a child of God.  I pray that all my writing is encouraging, empowering, and brings glory to Him.

You can read more of Hanna’s writing on her blog: Taking My Time.