What if life is just one giant mud puddle?

I’ve been thinking a lot about mess and joy.

Yesterday, my eldest decided to run jacketless and barefoot through what was basically a freezing, slushy, mud-filled pond at the playground. Was I thrilled? Not exactly.

Part of me wasn’t surprised (he tends to act first and think later). Part of me was impressed he even went for it. Part of me was worried he’d cut his foot open. And part of me was honestly just annoyed.

On the car ride home, he gave me the full recap. His feet were freezing. They hurt. They were bright red. And it felt amazing. He would absolutely do it again.

Once home, he hopped into a warm shower. That’s when my youngest, who had avoided every puddle at school because he didn’t have splash pants on, asked if he could go splash around in the backyard.

I paused. Mentally tallying the potential mess. Then I caught myself – I didn’t want to be the one who shut down his joy.

“Sure,” I replied.

Off he went in his full rain gear, happily filling his cup in the most perfect five-year-old way.

As I watched him jump, splash, kick up muddy water, and stop every so often to stare at his boots submerged in the puddle, it hit me:

We don’t get joy without the mess.

This shows up constantly in the work I do with clients. Wanting change without discomfort. Wanting clarity without confusion. Wanting confidence, calm, or self-trust without first moving through the messy middle.

I fall into this trap at times, too.

Whether it’s parenting, relationships, work, or learning to untangle old patterns around self-worth, the truth is the same. Growth isn’t clean. Healing isn’t linear. And meaningful change asks us to step into places we’ve been avoiding.

Kids know this instinctively. They don’t stop to weigh the risks or overthink the outcome. They jump in.

Somewhere along the way, we learn to hesitate. To ask “what if?” To try to stay dry and comfortable. But comfort doesn’t create change. And avoiding the mud doesn’t lead to joy.

So here’s the question I’m sitting with today, and maybe it’s one for you too:

What might become possible for you if you jumped in with your whole body, stopped asking “what if,” and trusted that the mess might be part of the point?