March 18, 2022
I don't know if a mucky, muddy, brown patch of wet mud has ever looked so beautiful. On one of our warm sunny days this week I arrived at church in the morning to the front-lawn-full-of-snow we've had for months, and almost watched it steadily disappear throughout the day. When I walked out to my car in the late afternoon, I was greeted by the sights, sounds, and smells of early spring.
Dear Ones,
I don't know if a mucky, muddy, brown patch of wet mud has ever looked so beautiful. On one of our warm sunny days this week I arrived at church in the morning to the front-lawn-full-of-snow we've had for months, and almost watched it steadily disappear throughout the day. When I walked out to my car in the late afternoon, I was greeted by the sights, sounds, and smells of early spring.
"Mud Season" is what my friends who live on farms or in rural areas call this time of year. Not needing to drive heavy equipment over the ground or attempt to get fields ready for planting, I call it "glorious". And when I stopped at the store on my way home, everyone in the check out line was talking about the weather - it was too exciting not to share!
This year, especially. It feels as if we are maybe, possibly, could-it-be, finally moving out of what has felt in some ways like a two-year long winter, and into the most welcomed spring ever. Even so, the mud reminds us that even the most holy of transitions are rarely pristine and rarely without some messiness to deal with. Our upcoming Holy Week reminds of us of the same. It all feels especially sacred this year.
My prayer for you this week is sturdy boots to get you through the mud and muck, hope in your hearts as you watch what was transition into what will be, and the joy of sharing it all with one another as companions on the journey.
Blessings,
Jennifer