Raising Magnolias

Clear As Mud

Hi. My name is Myra Katherine. I’m sarcastic and I use self-deprecating humor both because it serves as a Defense Mechanism—

And because I’m funny.

But usually not on purpose.

I’m like a character from a children’s book who says something not meant to be funny and then says,

“And everybody laughed eventhough I didn’t say anything funny.”

Sometimes I feel that way. Sometimes everybody laughs.

Eventhough I didn’t say anything funny.

If you follow my blog, you are probably aware of the sarcasm and the humor and the random way in which I flit and float from topic to topic and how I occasionaly lose my train of—

Wait. Where was I?

Clear as Mud.

Sometimes.

It seems.

My writing.

Is.

Clear as Mud.

Last week in my attempt at humor I hurt someone that I care about.

Deeply.

It was in regards to Christian/Other.

I didn’t understand. I was making a joke, but it came across as judgement.

And I thought more about it.

And I thought about my High School sweetheart and I wondered what he would’ve checked. And I’m not sure. But it’s possible he would’ve checked Christian/Other.

And he loves the Lord.

And my aim is never to hurt or to offend.

You know, unless you have hurt or offended me and then of course that is totally my aim.

That was a joke.

And then more mud.

I got an email from a new reader. He says, “Oh, I know how you feel. During our divorce, I was mad at God, too.”

And I thought oh good grief. Is that what I’m projecting?

More mud.

I emailed him back.

I’m not mad at God. I’m mad at my husband.

And myself.

And then yesterday. Clear as mud, bless her heart.

I was not referring to the father of my children. That chapter is already written. I was just giving a fun little warning.

To other men.

To liars.

And I am learning. People lie.

A lot.

I’m looking out at the melting snow and how God says though our sins are like scarlet, He covers us and we are white as snow and I see the snow melting outside and underneath, layers and layers of soggy earth and the dogs come in and they are covered.

In mud.

Beneath the surface of the sparkling white is mud.

Muddy lies and anger and fear and hurt and you can hardly see the white or believe that He sees the white because everything is so dirty.

Muddy.

I don’t like mud.

I want crystal and diamonds and sparkly things.

I want clarity.

For my. For my children. For our future.

But sometimes we get mud.

And there is grace in the mud.

And we are called to be thankful for the mud.

God in my writing, provide clarity.

For my readers. 🙂

May I be honest without hurting and as the words come; words filled with anger and forgivness and hurt and healing and fear and hope and joy and humor and yes, as the words spill, may you always be glorified.

And may You continue to wash away the mud.