Puddles of Mud

Last week while babysitting Grandson One I got to experience one of life's great and simple pleasures.

Mud Puddles.

There was no rain, but the sprinklers had done a very thorough job one night,
Leaving the little parking lot dips full of murky, dirty water. 
       An undeniably magnetic attraction for toddler boys.


And so it was in one quick motion that Grandson One was jumping, 
Stamping, 
Splashing,
And squealing.
In the icky little puddles.
        This was very fun to watch and his face was filled with delight!

But it didn't take me long to recognize that his feet and legs were becoming a mess.
And then he bent down and slapped his hands in the water. 
And then he bent over and tried to drink it. 
And so it was in one quick motion that I was scooping up Grandson One.
       To keep him from ingesting the filth.

For some reason the idea of cleaning up his little arms and legs was not such a big deal.
And the messy splashes on his clothes would only need a snappy turn in the washer.
But when water like that goes inside?
       Well, some things can't be undone.

Experiencing this reminded me of a poster I once saw.
It pictured a pair of hands filled with drippy, sloppy, gooey mud;
The hands sharing the mud with another pair of hands,
While another pair of clean hands sat in wait.
And a caption that read,
       "Gossip: Don't Pass it On".

I am not quite sure what it is about human nature that makes this such a difficult task.
For some reason we enjoy the dramatic and the fateful.
And love to exploit the ugly and the weak in others.
And so we share untruths, part truths, or misunderstood truths
In an effort to gain approval, attention, or false admiration. 
Or maybe even in an effort to make sense of things that make no sense.
But no matter the reason, 
       If you play in the mud you are going to get dirty.

I learned a lesson about this the hard way.
I was in High School
And my friend had temporarily left me behind to join a more popular group of friends.
One Friday night they were late to the football game.
I thoughtlessly made a false remark about where they might be. And what they might be doing. 
       That they shouldn't be doing.

And they never made it to the game.
Because instead of doing what I said they might be doing that they shouldn't be doing,
They were actually in a car accident.
No one was seriously injured.
Except for myself. And my friend...
       Because I had slandered her name.

I have never been able to forget that night.
And I have never been able to forget how I felt.
There was nothing acceptable, admirable, or respectable about what I had done.
The harsh reality was that I had been the one doing something that I should not have been doing.
And I felt slimy, dirty, and icky inside...
       Because I had played in the mud.

Over the years I have come to learn that everybody has their own Puddle of Mud.
Their own dramatic, fateful, ugly, and weak.
       And it can be very, very tempting to play.

But just like the other day, as I watched Grandson One jump, stamp, splash, and sip,
And just like the other High School day so long ago,
And regrettably, just like other days since then,
I must remember that if I play in the mud I'm going to get dirty.
       And some things can't be undone.

"Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, 

but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing in a tempting moment."

Benjamin Franklin