Muddy Waters

Journal for Christa—

There are some things in life that just aren’t going to be easy, and they’re never going to be easy, and that’s just the truth.

I was kind of taken aback today—back to a journal a few weeks ago and the story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. In the biblical narrative, Jesus did hesitate and He did cause Martha and Mary great pain, but He eventually came and He raised their brother from the dead, but—

What if He hadn’t? What if He hadn’t come at all?

Martha said she knew Lazarus would rise at the resurrection—but really, that wasn’t doing much for her in the moment. Sometimes God just seems to let us down. God can seem so very far away, and hope can float away like so much muddy water under a bridge.

One year—years ago when our kids were little—my grandparents came out to my parents’ farm to visit us while we were there. At the time Grandma was really up in years, and she’d kind of get stuck on a topic and repeat herself.

The Farm

Sunrise from the bridge

Now, my parents’ place had a long history for Grandma because it had originally belonged to her parents. It was the farm she grew up on. All afternoon she recounted childhood anecdotes that I only wish I could remember. Then, at one point she got stuck on the creek that passes under a bridge as you first enter the property. “Yeah, lots of water’s gone under that ol’ bridge,” she’d say. Then, she kind of went into herself and periodically repeated her comment with one change: “Yeah, lots of muddy water’s gone under that ol’ bridge.”

Dear Grandma, bless her soul. I’m afraid her fixation became a family saying, and even today when something downright crummy or tragic happens, it’s often referred to as “muddy water under the bridge.”

Much of life is awesome and wonderful. But, there are some things that are just so much stinky, muddy water; and it’s all too easy to let our hope, too, slip through our fingers and float away with the dirt.