Knights Becoming and a Lady in Waiting

Dirty Laundry

I hate dirt.  I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it... well, I'd have to add a lot more hate there to truly do my feelings justice.  I have always hated dirt.  My mom loves to tell about how, as a toddler, I was put into a sandbox and just stood there.  "Eeeew, Mommy, diirrr-teeeeeee!"

Mud, in my opinion, is even worse.  Mud is dirt that sticks.  Mud is dirt that is, well, dirtier.  Mud is just WRONG.

Today I was having a lovely chat with my mother when I realized my two older sons (6 and 4) had taken our brand-new watering can and were using it to water the dirt.  Slowly, this turned the dirt into mud.  By the time I saw them, the boys had their shoes and legs pretty dirty.

Every natural (or unnatural) instinct in me cringed, whimpered, and threatened to curl up in a little ball and surrender.  Mud.  My sweet, wonderful boys were playing in mud.

I took a deep breath, put on my best homeschooling mommy face, and didn't quite manage a smile.  "I'm going to let them.  Boys should be allowed to play in mud sometimes."

I let them play in the mud, even when they decided it was fun to paint designs on their clothing.  I let them play in the mud, even when they used it to sculpt their hair into the latest styles.  I let them play in the mud, even when they painted the screen door with dark handprints, fingerprints, and footprints.  I didn't approve.  I most definitely didn't enjoy.  But I let them play with mud.

Eventually, they got cold and were tired of playing in the mud.  No "I told you so" from Mom this time.  I helped them take off the muddy clothing.  (Okay, I'm not perfect.  I screamed, "Don't touch me!  You're filthy!" more than once.)  I put them in the middle of the yard.  I filled buckets of water (the hose is stuck elsewhere).  I dumped the cold water over their shivering bodies-- repeatedly.

Okay, this got off the worst of the muck, but there was still plenty left.  So I got a ratty washcloth, more cold water, and scrubbed them with the cold water and rough fabric.

Still not clean... and they were touching me.  Okay, I took four towels, wrapped two around the boys, and used the other two to make "steps" for them to walk into the house.  They'd stand on one towel as I spread the next one out in front of them.  They'd move to the next towel and I'd spread the first one out in front.  And so on, all the way up to my (recently cleaned) shower.

Soap, shampoo, and warm water-- lots of it.  With a lot of patient scrubbing and a few little temper tantrums on my part ("Be still!  You're getting me dirty AND wet!"), they got a little more clean.  Still, there was some mud left in their hair, their noses (don't ask!) and a few other little cracks. 

I turned off the shower and put them in a tub full of bubble-bath water.  A full twenty minutes later, they were clean enough to put on new clothing, cuddle up on the couch in blankets, drink hot chocolate, and watch Reading Rainbow.

I lost it a few times during this whole ordeal, but one thing held me together, especially toward the end as I was running out of energy.  God did this for me... and God really hates dirt.

God allows us to play in the mud if that is our choice.  He gives us free will.  (Some day when I'm having better research skills, maybe I can find the verses that back this up specifically).

So we play.  We have fun.  But eventually mud gets cold.  It gets caked and sticky.  It doesn't feel so good.

God, who has been patiently waiting for us to realize we are sinners, comes along with a cold bucket of water to rinse away our sins.  He scrubs us.  He puts us through a warm shower.  He lets us soak in a bath until we are as white as snow.

Something I didn't mention earlier in my story.  Somewhere in the process of getting my sons clean, I got dirty.  I hate dirt, but because I love them and wanted them to be clean, I got dirty.

In order to get us clean, Jesus had to get dirty.  He had to go on the cross and take on every bit of my dirty laundry.

This has always impressed me, but it impressed me more today.

Like me, GOD HATES DIRT.

But He got dirty, with MY dirt, because He loves me.

John 13:1-10

Lord, wash me clean of my impurities and thank You for being willing to get dirty because of the great love You have for me.  Amen.

Why do I seem to like the mud?

10:42 AM, May. 1, 2006 .. Posted by InHizImage

Once again, you've written so beautifully and drawn me far enough in to get my attention before taking me to the wood shed so God could speak to me. (Okay "speak" is the understatement here).
It seems like I am always in the mud, as of late, and reading this has been so encouraging to me. Thank you.