And Then There Were Violets

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?