In the caked mud by the side of our house, I notice bright wild violets. How can they grow here?
I bend down to see the world from their perspective.
They remind me of a day I stumbled upon a field of violets deep in the shaded woods. They seemed painted there–out of place and magical–like some fairy’s secret ministry.
And here, by my own home, right in the mud and muck, they rise up. They resurrect every Spring.
I learn that these blue violets can take over a whole landscape. Gardeners describe them as invasive and uncontrollable.
I want that kind of resurrection this Easter. I want invasive, uncontrollable. I want to let the Risen One rise up–as He did and does–in the mud and muck of me.
Are you a violet lover like me?