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?