Mud

I look out the window and there are flurries. Again.

My wool coat hangs close by in the closet.

I am still wearing gloves.

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The snowbanks edging the front lawn are covered in sand; small dirt mountains that pockmark the landscape. These dirt mounds line the sidewalks and fill the lot across the street washing the view from my front door in a brown blur.

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It seems like nothing ever changes. Everyday, when I look out the window I think the whole place is in need of a good scrubbing. My town is wearing her ugly dress.

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But, I am blind.

Blind to evidence….hidden evidence forming underneath the dirt-crusted snow. I cannot see it but I can hear it..the faint trickle of water somewhere. I stand quiet along the road like I’m in Narnia when someone says, “‘The witch’s magic is weakening.” And  (like) Lucy felt that deep shiver of gladness that you only get if you are being solemn and still.”

It is not until days later that I see what has been happening beneath the surface of things.
I see the evidence of water doing its work.
I see mud.

I am Lucy’s Edward when he realizes the spell of of the white witch has been broken and winter loosens its grasp for good.

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“All around them, though out of sight, there were streams chattering, bubbling, splashing and even (in the distance) roaring. And his heart gave a great leap (though he hardly knew why) when he realised that the frost was over.”

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The man sits in the road, just another part of the landscape in another place and another time where nothing ever changes. He hears, but he does not see. He was brought forth from the blackness of the womb only to remain in the dark. No blinding lights here. No squinting baby in his mother’s arms. That day he became destined for beggary.

But…God. But…mud.

The man hears voices.  He hears the word, Rabbi. The voices are asking this rabbi if he, the man, low and in the dirt, is a sinner. Or was it the sins of his mom and dad that kept the light from coming into his eyes?

As if all suffering must be the result of a wrong choice.

The man isn’t a novelty. Lots of blind people seem to show up alongside the road when this rabbi is around. Part of the furniture, really, the way these guys are talking like he’s deaf, too.

But, this rabbi didn’t step into the blue planet to make a connection with wood and nails.

Instead, He embraced wood and nails to make a connection with the broken flesh of humanity.

The Ancient of Days Person turns to a made-from-the-dust-person, connecting with the man face-to-face, sighted eye to blinded eye, getting low to the ground where the broken and blind live, and, with His back to his friends, He divides their very souls and marrow with these words.

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“It was neither that this man sinned,nor his parents; but it was in order that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

Then He makes mud.
Spit and dirt.
He smears it over the man’s eyes.
He dirties him up and then He tells him to go wash.

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See,  blind person, Jesus is Lord of all creation.

He is Lord of all the dirt and grime and muddied up places.

And He is Lord of the cleaning up.

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This is where we see the works of God. When we, the blind, the broken, the loneliest of lonelies, are changed from being just a part of the furniture, no longer not seen, but seen and see-ing.
We are known and we now know.

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It is only a holy connection with wood and nails that could accomplish this sort of thing.

Yes, we’ve been sin-dirtied. We’ve had mud smeared on us, but we’ve had a proper washing up and now His Spring is displayed in us.

We embrace mud season because we know it points to a promise.

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This is Easter.

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6 thoughts on “Mud

  1. This is beautifully written, Mitsie, as always. Thanks for helping us remember what’s most important about this season. You have an amazing gift and I’m so thankful for you.

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