Mud

The humorous: We headed home, the Baby Girl and I, a bit earlier from the park as anticipated. I forgot to turn on my common sense button before we left the house. Got there, found the playground awash in wicked hot direct sun (imagine! at 11:30a!). But it was our good fortune that the park sits next to part of a little bay area that empties into Boston Harbor, which, you figure, empties into the ocean.

So Baby Girl...well really I decided we should "cool off" down by the water. Sand was muddy and dense like quicksand. Within a minute, Baby Girl and I were caked in mud to our knees (common sense would have told me to turn around, not pass go, not collect $200 but WE HAD TO get to that water!).

Almost got eaten alive by tiny crabs, so populous were they. Attempting to walk back to sandy patch and Baby Girl cannot traverse mud. I pick her up, she kicks me in the face. Now my face is muddy, including my spectacles which do not come with wiper features. Our clothes are also muddy, and I don't know how this happened really. We were sparkling clean just moments ago.

I look down and see that my shoes, which are part Croc plastic, part fabric are irrevocably muddy. I make a donation of Crocs to the park garbage can. I drive home barefoot with child screaming muddy murder in backseat.

The serious:

When I think about my life in Christ, I think about how often I am rebuked to give up something more to follow Him. How I will say, Jesus, I give you this this AND this BIG BIG thing, oh, but that thing over there? I'm going to take care of that, Jesus. Don't you mind that. That's under control.

He says pick up your mat and follow me. Deny your mother and father and follow me.

Maybe even throw the shoes away that are keeping you from getting to the living water, throw them away and follow me.

I'm shoeless now, Jesus. I think I'm ready. But what about my muddy kid with the tears?