Muddy Boots

There is something to be said about coming home from being outside and taking pleasure in scraping mud off the bottom of your boots. Generally, I don’t enjoy this process or anything about being muddy—or do I? Have I spent the last few years worrying about something as insignificant as dirt on my boots while missing out on the simple joys of life?

My reclaimed love of mud happened today with a colleague while we were chaperoning a hiking trip with a group of our students from the alternative high school where we teach. Some of them are not accustomed to doing this type of activity. At the beginning of the trip a couple students said, “I’m afraid to be in the woods. I’d rather be in the city where it’s safe.” Others questioned why we were doing this and wondered, what was the point? When they asked this, I didn’t have an answer at the ready that would appease them. I knew many reasons for us being there on the hiking trip but at that second, I couldn’t explain it to teenagers who would rather be at home asleep or with their friends partying.

In some moments, don’t we ask God the same question at times? In our prayers, in our questioning or in our anguish of some tragedy don’t we also ask, “What’s the point?” We have teenage temper-tantrums in hopes that we will be struck with the answer from above. Meanwhile we miss what is lying beneath our feet, we fail to stop and focus on the present path we are hiking. We want the ah-ha moment immediately but I feel that God pauses our moment in time if we would accept that pause and listen to the quiet. Mud permitted me to do that today.

The ground was newly defrosted and the mud was extra squishy. To feel the mud sink beneath me and to see my treads sinking further into the earth I couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling. I normally don’t like the feeling of sinking nor do I ever stop to really notice if I am sinking in the literal sense of life. I like control too much to do this daily. And whenever I sense myself sinking at work or at home I quickly grab onto the nearest solid ground and pull myself up to safety. But today was different. I didn’t think about having to clean off my boots later, I just loved the feeling of being in the mud, stuck for a moment and sinking further. I was even so bold as to pull my boot out of the muck and marvel at the outline around the treads.

We were at a natural stopping point on our trip where a quarry had naturally filled with rainwater over the years to form a manmade lake. We were enjoying the scenery while our students were climbing upon lifeguard chairs and floating docks. I think they would have thrown off their parkas and jumped in to swim had we let them despite the 40-degree air temperature. In that moment, I realized we were all on unstable ground and loving it. My students were swaying and rocking on the docks perched in their lifeguard chair or dangling their faces over the dock. While we, the adults, were sinking in the mud on the shore. None of us wanted to move. We were at one with our instability.

Though I wasn’t able to produce a thought-provoking answer to “the point” of our hiking field trip, I know they did experience one simple joy in life today when they let their inhibitions go on unstable ground. Watching them feel free enough to sway with the ripples of the water while we were free enough to be stuck in the mud made me realize how God waits for us to be willing to give into Him. Whether we are stuck in mud or swaying on water, God is our stable ground and the faith we form with Him and with one another is the solid ground we have as seekers and as Christians.

~sl