May 06, 2011

Muddy Puddles of Life

Spring has finally arrived on the prairies. What a relief to put away the toques and mittens for another year, well at least for a few months anyway. The rays of the sun are getting stronger and the daylight longer. Soft spring rains have gently watered the dry and brittle grass; within a few days what was brown has now turned green. Purple and red crocuses begin to bloom and the splash of color lightens my heart.

At the beginning of the winter I was excited about new things God was stirring within; there was a penetrating sense of promise and possibility that ignited my soul. How quickly things can change. By the end of winter I was feeling trapped and constricted by the needs of others. The joy melted away just like the snow into messy muddy puddles.

A flash of movement catches my eye and I turn to watch two small birds fly down to bathe and drink of water collected in a muddy hole. A thought becomes captured in my mind. How often do I think that God cannot use me because my own life is too messy or muddled at times?

Like the tender shoots that have braved winters harshness hidden beneath snow and moldy leaves I sense new growth that has been obscured from my burdened view. With eyes that had been befuddled by the obvious I now begin to understand. God does not look for the pretty or the pristine nor does He wait for the perfect.

Eyes blinded by my own circumstances all I could see were pockets of muddy puddles after the storm. With fresh insight I now could understand; these two birds didn’t see the mud. They found what they needed for that morning in the middle of my messy place.

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