mudflops

The rain soaked my shoes.
The rain soaked my socks.
The rain soaked my work gloves…so I was left with not.
I chose to wear my flip-flops, an adventure it would be.
Up muddy hills and dangly cliffs – to a mystery muddy site.
I felt useless and sticky – dirty and picky, as I scraped the mud from my shoes.
Each step that I took…I grew deeper in soot, in black, brown, oozy grossness…
Mud flop.
One swish of a hammer beneath my dirty brown toes,
produced a product -quite worthless to anyone who knows…
you shouldn’t wear flip-flops up muddy, sticky mountains –
or you’ll wind up complaining and think you missed somethin’.
Quite useless I felt…until a surprise came my way,
Thanks to Jesus, my handicap did not ruin the day…
a joyfully little boy emerged from the muddy, wet, woods.
His name was Kensaw – he wore a yellow button shirt.
Together we danced – in muddy, mud flops and bare feet without pause.
His laughter shook the atmosphere with every word he repeated.
A mini-parrot perhaps, but great joy we much needed.
The rain soaked my shoes.
The rain soaked my socks.
The rain soaked my work gloves…and I was not left in not.
The rain soaked many villages, and probably people too.
The rain ruined shelters, and created crazy river roads.
I chose to wear my mud flops, and kissed my selfishness goodbye.
I got over myself – and said, “Lord give me Your eyes”.
It’s not about houses. It’s not about mud.
It’s not about being comfortable – it’s about being undone.
It’s about loving God’s children – come rain or come shine.
It’s about walking like Jesus – one mud-flop at a time.