Dirt

All of us are made from it. Everything that is, turns into it. It comes in all different sorts and sizes. Clay is sticky and slimy making it good for pot making. Dirt mixed with grass builds abode. Mud dries on the bottom of shoes. Soccer moms clean it out of a reckless child’s clothes. Some people tell others to eat it. And some folks talk dirt.

Dirt is everywhere. Dust settles on shelves and tables. Carpets soak up soil like a bounty paper towel. Stubborn stains sit around. Dirt tags along if we like it or not. Somehow mysteriously it finds a way under fingernails. Some of it is left on the rug beside the door, and some of it left together with shoes. Dirt needs tilling, if the garden is to grow. It is even in our conversations. No matter how hard one tries, it is everywhere.

This same dirt that follows us around like a pain in the ass, is the material needed for life. Earthworms abide in it. Trees root themselves deep within it. Vegetables gardens borrow its nutrients. Without dirt, and without trees, shade from the unforgiving sun would be hard to come by. Without dirt, and without the fruit that springs forth from it, tragedy would befall the human race. It is quite ironic, of course.

Again and again, dirt gets a bad rap. But if you have eyes to see and hands and feet to touch, dirt after all is not the villain. Take off your shoes for once. Feel it between your toes. Wonder at the awe of its mystery. Most times first impressions are wrong. And sometimes the villain, if you look him in the eyes, may just be a hero in disguise. Always remember, God made dirt, and dirt doesn’t hurt.

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