My Dad Likes To Play In The Mud

Written by Grace Atherton on June 19, 2023

I used to think something was wrong with me,

When I was young I made mud cakes with beautiful flowers,

Roads and sandcastles,

Tunnels and bridges dug in the dirt by hand,

I used to run through it, and grow plants in it,

Throw corn cob stalks with muddy roots, 

In friendly turf wars,

I created and made dirty things.

Sometimes secretly I still like to go mudding.

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I think playing in the dirt was inherited,

You see I liked to play in the dirt and my Dad likes playing in the dirt too.

He makes clay people pots,

It’s on a pottery wheel but if it’s not quite right,

He breaks and reforms it,

It’s messy, it’s dirty, but Dad’s near,

He’s near the break and the remake,

So near.

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In the break it’s never meant to stay that way,

It’s never meant to be dirt clumps in a thousand pieces,

It’s never meant to be dumped and left on the floor,

It’s meant to be made into something new,

Each individual piece of brokenness made into a beautiful pot,

Through the reshaping and the fire,

It’s dirty, but that is what my Dad does is play in the mud.

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Something changed as I got older,

I went through a lot of dirt,

Have you ever had mud thrown on your name?

Your character ditched or times when you lacked character when you were ditched?

Have you ever felt so broken that there was no way to glue the pieces back together?

No strength to pick the pieces off the floor?

Maybe trauma from an experience?

Depression?

Brokeness?

Everyone leaving you on the side of the road in the dirt during your darkest times?

Childhood or adult wounds so deep they hurt?

People letting you down or most importantly letting yourself down?

Have you ever felt so low you hit dirt?

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Well the good news is Dad makes stuff out of mud,

Molding/remolding making stuff out of the brokenness and the nothing.

Since the beginning he has been playing in the dirt,

When he played in the dirt the first time he made the first man,

It was dirty. 

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In fact, one of my Dad’s sons became the dirtiest,

Nothing, so he could experience everything we go through, 

And cover all the dirt. 

I guess playing in dirt runs in the family.

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In fact, when everyone else looks down on others my brother looks up on his knees.

Just like he did with a sister caught cheating,

He writes stuff in the mud. 

A new story.

The stones of accusation and shame get dropped,

Because he makes stuff out of mud.

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Another time he mixed spit and dirt, 

To help a brother see again. 

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I know my brother got playing in dirt from Dad because one time another son got his inheritance early and spent all the money, 

He went to dirty places and did dirty things,

He was all covered in pig pen mud,

When he finally came back home my Dad made him a meal and covered his dirty clothes with a beautiful coat.

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Another time Dad went after a lost sheep on the farm,

The one that got away, just like some of his kids do from time to time,

It was dirty,

He went after it just like he does us and found it.

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I am thankful my Dad likes to play in the mud!

Because with mud in His hands anything can be remade.

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Do or did you ever like to play in the mud? What did you like to make?

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BONUS

SPECIAL VIDEO THIS WEEK: Here is a link for a video made by a YouTuber (online under the name of FLIP FLOPS): HERE

We met when she got footage of me. I was trying to get out of the shot because I thought I was in her way. Turns out she’s a talented videographer who covers the ocean/neat destinations. Besides her work, it was so special getting to talk to her and I just wish we could have spent more time together. We wanted to video tape me creating the sea horse but our schedules didn’t work out. I definitely encourage everyone to take a look at this and other videos on her site, subscribe, comment and like her work.