It’s mud season.
We’ve been busy with lambs and garden planning, but we truly excel at mud harvesting. Besides the fields, mud clings to the bottom of every boot, tracks into the garage, and even charmingly cakes on the blue heeler’s nose. As winter melts away and the world awakens to the promise of warmer days, even those without a bumper crop of mud turn to the familiar task of spring cleaning. So far, I’ve avoided the garage and focused on closets and cabinets, but as I freshen up each space, I can’t help but wonder: What areas of my heart need similar attention? If I take an honest look, my heart is like that daunting garage. This will take some doing.
Lent is a sacred season of preparation. Just as Advent readies us for Christmas, Lent prepares us for the reason for our hope, Christ’s glorious Resurrection. These forty days call for prayer, fasting, and almsgiving—our soul’s sweeping, scrubbing, and shining. Overwhelming? On our own, it would be. But with Christ, nothing is impossible. That’s why every action must be anchored in Him.
Prayer.
I often think of the Syrian commander Namaan. Suffering from leprosy, he sought healing from the prophet Elisha (2 Kings 5:1-14). Elisha instructed him to wash in the river seven times, but Namaan refused. It seemed too easy—surely something more difficult or dramatic was required for healing. Finally, he humbled himself, obeyed, and was restored. Like Naaman, we may overlook the power of simple acts, but God often works through the ordinary—whether in washing in a muddy river or washing the dishes.
Every evening my tired eyes are caught in a stare down with the kitchen sink, I think of St. Mother Teresa. The little nun is widely attributed to saying, “Wash the plate not because it is dirty, nor because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next.” This is how our work becomes prayer, and how we offer our daily tasks for the love of God and the love of our neighbor. When we unite the dirty dishes, mounds of laundry, or cluttered corners with prayer, Christ is there. He lifts the burden and sorts every sock beside us.
Fasting.
When Jesus was asked why His disciples didn’t fast, He replied that it wouldn’t make sense to fast during a feast – while Christ, the bridegroom, was with them. Then He continued, “But the time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; then they will fast,” (Lk 5:33-35). That time is now. Like Jesus in the desert for forty days, let us pursue holiness through self-denial and sacrifice.
One glance at our garage makes it clear that a dainty feather-duster won’t cut it. Likewise, before we fast, we should prayerfully examine what filth has accumulated in our hearts. Is this a season for heavy cleaning? Is Christ calling me to grow in love by limiting the world’s influence—by giving up social media or the constant barrage of bad news? Fasting and cleaning share a common purpose: removing the unnecessary to make room for what truly matters.
Almsgiving.
We know we’re called to fully rely upon the Lord, but does my clutter reflect my trust in Him? Christians are called to live radically different lives. How does my spending align with what Jesus teaches? Man cannot serve two masters, yet with American credit card debt spiraling out of control, it appears MasterCard was appropriately named.
Like Christ in the Temple, let’s flip the tables for a perspective change. Instead of creating a wishlist, let’s focus on our blessings. With grateful hearts, we should take stock of what we’ve been entrusted with and ask God how we can use these gifts to bless others. What can I release so that someone else can receive? Is my closet busting at the seams? Perhaps it’s time to Clothe the Naked. Is my pantry jammed full of expired canned goods? Maybe I’ve failed to answer God’s call to Feed the Hungry. When Jesus overturned the tables in the temple, He was restoring it to its intended purpose: a house of prayer. Likewise, our souls—temples of the Holy Spirit—sometimes need to be refocused on our true Master and His call to love through charity.
It’ll be a Mud Season Miracle if my house stays clean for a week. Much like my soul, it’ll need regular upkeep—seasons of penance, Fridays for fasting, and the healing grace of the sacraments. Praise God, He is a God of Miracles, one who hears our prayers and restores our souls.
Create in me a clean heart, O Lord, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Featured photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash
Beautiful, Neena