In the Dirt

A Poem

This past weekend I had the pleasure of moving dirt with my 4-year old son. In spite of the laboriousness of the task, this was such a lovely experience. My son simply revelled in it. Not just the labour, but the dirt as well. He was covered.

Working with him, side by side, my heart swelled with a pride I didn’t expect. There was joy in simply labouring with my boy. At one point I just stood and watched him, shovel in hand, digging happily away. I had to wonder: is this how God feels when we labour with Him in the Gospel?

This poem was born of that reflection. It’s not my usual style, blank, iambic verse (not strictly, mind) - I usually prefer rhyming or alliterative verse, or some hybrid of the two. But I felt this was the most appropriate for the nature of the poem, being of a more slice-of-life feel. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed moving dirt with my son.

In the Dirt

“It’s time to get work!” He said, his shovel in his hands -
a day of play already writ in dirt beneath his nails.
One small shovel-full he scooped for each one I threw in,
five quick steps he’d have to take to keep up my every stride.
He dug, and dug, and dug some more, then jumped with boyish joy
to boast how deep a hole he made, and fit himself inside.
We filled the barrow once, then twice, and thrice, a fourth time more -
every trip to the garden and back grew my father’s pride.
I wondered then, “Is this the way our God in Heaven feels
when we, His children here on earth, take upon His labours?”
How indeed did I not know what joy there is to have
to simply work and till the earth with one’s own flesh and blood?

Thanks for reading.