Written over the last few days....
My skin is still feeling the heat of the sun. I've come inside propped my feet up on my bed and ensured enough pillows behind my back. I have a cup of water to my right.... as well as a room temperature coca cola right next to it. Music practice is underway out in the main room and I get to reap the sweet benefit of a rhythmic drum beating and voices echoing throughout the house. It has been a full, rich, and emotional reentry into Uganda for me. I am coming to think that those three adjectives are part of my life.... part of who He made me to be. Sometimes, (k, maybe often...) those adjectives switch from lower case to upper case.... and sometimes from normal font to bold.... and back to less bold, smaller case letters. The ebbs and flows of life. And it feels like there is a constant ebbing and flowing of life!
Today, as I was reading my twitter feed, I came across this tweet.
We do disservice when we go to service acting like we've never rolled in the mud. Someone at church needs to know we've been where they are.
9/27/15, 5:10 PM
And it somehow stopped me in my tracks. I started a response on twitter and deleted it. I was getting stuck on Semantics and Theology. Neither are my gifting. I know I love to write and I know I love my Jesus. But the words don't always flow out smoothly and I'm not always the most articulate when it comes to theology.
I feel like I am constantly rolling in mud. Aren't we all? And walking in it. And picking it up and squeezing it between our fingers. The mud of life is there. It is here. It is everywhere. Earlier, when I went down to the farm, I picked up my snake stick and pushed it around in the dirt. I found myself pushing hard against the dirt as tears burned my eyes. There was something should I be so bold as to say.... therapeutic in acknowledging the dirt.
But when I heard someone walking nearby.
I could feel myself tighten.
The freedom of the moment was lost by the awareness that it was no longer Jesus, me, and my dirt.
It was now Jesus, me, my dirt, and someone else.
And I didn't like that.
And that is what has me thinking. Dirt. When it is all said and done. Dirt is Dirt. Yet, we categorize it. We decide what is acceptable dirt and what is not. We create rules and expectations. I'm not convinced that all mud is bad. Some mud is good. Rich. Full. Life giving. Some is wet and slimy hindered by too much water. Life Hindering.
In the dirt, life happens. OR... it doesn't.
I felt very free walking the path of muddiness with Ketty as she walked the cancer journey.
It was as we walked the muddy path, that our own friendship took off.
Digging out jiggers (larvae) from a kid? Ok Mud (just ok.... truth be told, it's not my favorite thing to do...) but in the end it's good..... the kid often walks away more smiley than frowny.
Telling someone your day has been rough? Slides off the tongue relatively easy. Though truth said, "I am good" rolls off a lot smoother.
Sharing the worst experience of your life? Or even just something more personal? Yep.... pretty much has to be a massive God nudge. MASSIVE. Even though the worst experience in the end proved to be a huge head turner towards my Jesus. Yep, somehow still takes a massive God nudge to share.
That's the truth.
And at some level, there is wisdom. But when God nudges and/or an open palm in sharing what God has done or is doing sometimes trumps.
Sometimes, life calls for boldness... guts.... risk.....
And I wish I had more guts...took more risks... didn't hold back.
Please Help me Jesus.
But somehow, since Ketty has gone home to heaven, I find myself holding back. As if this patch of mud needs to be walked alone. Somehow, I feel the responsibility to be able to walk it alone. To not let others see the tears, the pain, the missing of a dear friend.
And somehow I am believing a lie.
Forgive me Jesus.
Yesterday, I was driving back home and I saw three of Ketty's kids walking along the road. I stopped and got out of the car. I hugged each one. As I embraced the oldest daughter, I asked her how she was doing. She answered. I told her that I missed her momma and still got teary. And she seemed surprised. And I wonder if in sharing a little bit of my own journey through the mud.... it somehow blessed her. Her momma was missed. Still. Three weeks after she went home to heaven, she is still missed. And will undoubtably be missed for years to come. And somehow, the acknowledging of that..... seemed to soften her heart. And it touched my own heart. And somehow... in that pause, we shared our dirt. And somehow as we shared that dirt, light dried up the life hindering part and the life giving part emerged.
And that's the part I appreciate. Even in the mud.... there is life. LOTS of Life. And with Life... comes laughter, joy, contentment, and sweetness. And even though there IS a lot of mud in life....there is also a whole lot of Life.... for sure!
So for today, I'm lifting up my dirt stained soles.... and embracing the journey He has me on today.
The laughter, the dirt, the tears, and the smiles.... and all that today holds.
*All these pictures were taken by friends.... not me. Not sure exactly who to give credit to.... but just know they were taken by some very talented friends. ( :