Mud and water

Looking at photos of one of my daughter's best friends from her high school days bicycling through the mud in Austin has got me so homesick for the past. First, I was thin. Second, I was in great shape. Third, I never thought too much about how I looked, the point was always "Carpe Diem!"
God has a way of weaving ideas together for me as I encounter people. Right now I am lost in the love of my children and grandchildren. Even sweet R has now accepted me as part of the clan. She handles Mom and Dad heading out the door and hanging with me and her brothers and sisters. J is still not too thrilled about losing his treasured spot as the baby of the family. I don't blame him a bit. We all want those "you're the last one I'll get to [fill in the blank] with." The kids are all growing so fast. They greeted me at the door with their artwork, brightly colored papers of their view of life. They see life as brightly colored. I would love for all of us to see life that way for every day of our lives!

I got a bit serious about things in the last couple of blogs. I think it is important that you, in your spiritual journeys, have the chance to observe the process as well as the fruit. I pray that you become very comfortable in your our spirituality and in your own unique communion with God. It is the main way we can keep the bright colors of our lives vivid and present for us.

Last night, I got Mexican food to take home and...sigh...I saw the street Burleson and I knew the Catholic Church was on that street. I could just drive by, right? That's all. I'll just drive by.
The parking lot was filled with cars. Somethings going on here. And sure enough, an evening Mass (though not a Mass because the priest was out of town). The little chapel was full of people. The lector read Paul's words so beautifully. And the gospel of John...the prayers for His disciples...oh, my how often I read those aloud in the woods...or anywhere I can get away with it.

"Everything I have is yours."

There's a man here at Starbucks in a knit shirt, dressed for work, and nice boots...damn, how I love south Texas!

So I go into the church, just to get a bulletin...but of course, He beckons me to come closer. And I do. I hear the prayers of the people in the chapel. Just for a moment. And I watch and weep. These people of faith. Coming together because its the right thing to do. They get it. Oh, why don't the rest of us get it?!

So I bring the food home and much of the meal is soggy. Sigh...but I just had to pray for a minute, Bobby. He understands...or at least lets me think he understands. And the kids don't mind. K jumps up on my lap and kisses the crucifix around my neck.

Why do people keep doing that? It happens all the time. People...okay, women...reach out to my chest, and take my crucifix in their hands and kiss it. And frankly, I love it when they do. Something about that particular design, I think. It just draws people to it.

So I bought about 20 of them and had them blessed this week. I've given quite a few away already. But there is something going on here that transcends the image. It is a connection to the Divine.

But I intended to write about mud and water.

Golf story: my ball was in the rough on a country club golf course. I was maybe 16 years old. Nice white golf shoes, nice white shorts. Blue shirt. I go over to hit the ball and I sink up to my knees in the sand/mud. This is not a joke. My buddies are laughing too hard to realize I cannot get out. I am yelling at them, but oh this is too funny! Ha-ha! OK guys, you've got to pull me out.
And they finally do. But we are in a tournament and I can't walk away. So I have to play out the round in mud boots. HEAVY mud boots. My nice white shoes are a mess. I am dirty all over. But the game must go on!

Backyard story: A creek (actually a ditch) ran behind my home in San Antonio. The rains were great. The pecan trees in the very back of the yard by the ditch, were a measure for me during the storms. The trees would tell me that the water was 4-5 feet deep back there. Wait a few days and then it was time to get the mayonaise jars and go hunting for tadpoles and other critters the water would bring to me. Once we found a bullfrog so big we had to get a styrofoam Ice chest just to catch him in...and oh my, we'd come home so muddy and happy. My mother would take one look at us, turn on the hose and squirt us down...and we'd be laughing the whole time.
The mayo jars would sit on the back porch for a time. I'd watch the little back legs sprout on the tadpoles, and then the front ones...and it seemed before they really began to look like frogs, the jar would disappear from the porch. (I suppose my mother did not want a plague of frogs trying to invade her house)

Point being in all these ramblings: Go ahead and get dirty. Not in sin, mind you, but get dirty in really living your own life. Don't be afraid to go "there" with Him. Seize the day with Him. Every single blessed second of it. Help others out of the mud and ask for help when you get stuck. Take a handful of life and put it in a mayonaise jar and watch it grow. And take a shower once in awhile.

And when the opportunity arises, kiss the cross that set you free.

Love, Cindy