Grace and Peace to you.
The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, “I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!”
Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father.
—John 20. 15-17
In between winter and spring is mud season. The beautiful snow disappears, burned down to icy, grimy crusts. Yards expose a season’s filth, matted and ugly. The ground is wet, sloppy and spongy. Brown mud covers everything. Green and flowering growth will come, but this comes first.
There is a season between repentance and rebirth, between the old life and the new. There is a kind of mud season in which we have become newly honest about our faults, wounds and struggles. We are exposed and vulnerable, and not yet comfortable with a new way of living. We are unrecognizable as our old selves, but not yet fully formed as new ones. The clay is still wet and fragile, too tender to cling to.
It’s hard to change our lives. It’s a long process, and it does not come all at once. We need to be humble and patient, and gentle with ourselves. And we ought to be so tender with others, in case they, too, have entered into their own mud season. We need to not cling to the way they are, so that they are free to become what they will be. New life will surely come, but only if we respect it. Be gentle with yourself and others, and be patient with the mud seasons. The little green shoots will appear soon enough.
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes