What the Mud Taught Me

You might be put off by the obvious metaphor based on the title of this blog entry. Trust me, after various sermons of being molded into something worthy by an almighty being through tribulations and unwanted experiences (cue the keyboard), I am the first to cringe and reject the notion that we must suffer to learn and overcome.

I do not intend to preach nor teach anything beyond my own experiences. Suffering is not something that is measured, not do I want to retell my pain and spill my trauma over you.

What I intend to do, is to reflect, rewind, and retrieve those feelings, experiences, and memories that sparked something new in me. I smile at those times, the rain, the drought, and the floods. Sorry, I couldn’t resist the weather metaphors. I was raised on songs about rain and rivers and water in various forms.

One of the most significant times in my life for which I am thankful for was the one that caused the most internal turmoil and dissonance, the same place where I learned those spiritual metaphors. The protestant, evangelical, christian, american, church.

It is no surprise to me that in the era where radical bible thumpers are leading the country, it is also near its collapse. Their dogma taught me to be a devout woman of Christ whose sole purpose was to be a wife (now known as a trad wife). Their dogma taught me not to question, and to denounce everything that was not of Christ. Those teaching sowed in hate for others and myself. Like mud, it got me stuck in one place of thinking. I could not move or question, challenge or renounce. That is where learned how to resist. To go against family, friends, mentors, and men.

Like I said, I smile at that time. Thankful to no longer be stuck, stagnant thinking, putrid teachings. To look back at it in the face and not look away. To consider it a past life. Knowing that within me, the radical was always there, dormant.

When I look at the current christian movement, I do not recognize it, there are remnants of what I knew, but it has mutated into a beast of its own. I am saddened by the sowing of hate and the contradictions that surround political figures and their followers. I am more saddened by the lack of stance from some churches that fear drop in attendance and tithes.

If I knew that the revival that my christian teachers taught me was going to look like this, I would have never believed it, and yet, it makes sense. To be brought up with the fear of the world in every lesson has birth a generation of soulless followers.

Now back to my muddy metaphor (never made any promises) trying to make some connection somehow though my rant....

What the mud taught me.

To move forward even when you feel you are not. To question even when no one answers. To challenge even if its just to yourself. To not stand still when something is uncomfortable. To look back once you are out of the mud and bring others with you.

I guess that works…what was your mud, how did you get out, and who have you helped get unstuck? (doubted me to bring this home? me too)