mess maker...
She was supposed to be napping, but she said she wasn't tired. I was though. I was tired, and I needed a moment to myself to just get something done in peace and quiet.
"You don't have to lay down and sleep, but you do have to stay in your room and be quiet until I come get you."
Those were the instructions, and we had an agreement. I made her wear a pull-up just in case she fell asleep. I was confident she was tired and if she would just allow herself to be still for a moment, she'd succumb. But she also knew she was tired and that if she was still for a moment she would succumb, and she was determined she was not going to nap.
I didn't hear a peep from her room. Feeling confident in my mothering negotiation tactics, I finished up laundry and got dinner going and was about to enjoy a great sense of achievement when I walked into her room to wake her up and discovered that the floor was wet.
"I didn't sleep, Mommy. But I was quiet."
"I appreciate you staying quiet like I asked. Why is your floor wet?"
"It's my pull up. It has a hole in it."
"And how did I get that hole in it?"
She leaned over and demonstrated how one is able to bite a hole in the bottom of a pull up should they, for some bizarre and gross reason, desire to.
"Like that."
"Why did you do that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, can you explain to me, then, how the carpet is wet."
"Yea, I pulled these little things out and they got on the carpet... and all over my bed, too."
Pull ups are full of a stuffing of some sort that, when wet, turns into absorbent bead like "things." And as she laid in her bed, being quiet and not sleeping, she pulled these bead "things" out of the little hole, bitten by her own teeth, and threw them around the room.
My first response wasn't holiness. It was anger. And what I really wanted to do was spank the fire out of her, but the Holy Spirit intervened, for both of our sake, and re-routed my emotions and brain in a different direction.
I took a few deep breaths, and as calmly as I could I replied, "You will clean this mess up."
"Okay, Mommy!"
She was relieved that grace was being dealt and didn't argue for a moment about cleaning anything. I asked her to strip her bed while I fetched the vacuum. Of course, while she could kind of clean up her mess, I knew full and well I'd be the one cleaning the majority of it. But I wasn't going to do it for her. She was going to help, and hopefully, she would learn a lesson by doing so.
I wheeled the heavy vacuum into her room and we began pushing it across the floor together. Her tiny little arms couldn't bear the weight of the vacuum and she couldn't push it to save her life. It towered over her, and although she kept saying her arms were tired, I was holding the weight of the machine. We switched out her sheets, took out her trash, and before we left her room she hugged me and said, "Thank you for helping me clean up my room, Mommy. I won't do that again,"
We are all really great at making messes. Big ones, too. And sometimes we feel like we've got to clean up our own mess but then we get started and realize we are in over our heads. We can't do it on our own. And that mess, well, it stemmed from a moment of bad decision making. Or maybe a series of it. Or maybe it was just plain disobedience. Regardless, we got ourselves into a mess and it was a lot easier to do than it will be getting ourselves out.
But what I've learned over the years is that God is willing to get down in the messes of life with us if we're willing to ask. David, a top notch mess maker, said...
"You don't have to lay down and sleep, but you do have to stay in your room and be quiet until I come get you."
Those were the instructions, and we had an agreement. I made her wear a pull-up just in case she fell asleep. I was confident she was tired and if she would just allow herself to be still for a moment, she'd succumb. But she also knew she was tired and that if she was still for a moment she would succumb, and she was determined she was not going to nap.
I didn't hear a peep from her room. Feeling confident in my mothering negotiation tactics, I finished up laundry and got dinner going and was about to enjoy a great sense of achievement when I walked into her room to wake her up and discovered that the floor was wet.
"I didn't sleep, Mommy. But I was quiet."
"I appreciate you staying quiet like I asked. Why is your floor wet?"
"It's my pull up. It has a hole in it."
"And how did I get that hole in it?"
She leaned over and demonstrated how one is able to bite a hole in the bottom of a pull up should they, for some bizarre and gross reason, desire to.
"Like that."
"Why did you do that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, can you explain to me, then, how the carpet is wet."
"Yea, I pulled these little things out and they got on the carpet... and all over my bed, too."
Pull ups are full of a stuffing of some sort that, when wet, turns into absorbent bead like "things." And as she laid in her bed, being quiet and not sleeping, she pulled these bead "things" out of the little hole, bitten by her own teeth, and threw them around the room.
My first response wasn't holiness. It was anger. And what I really wanted to do was spank the fire out of her, but the Holy Spirit intervened, for both of our sake, and re-routed my emotions and brain in a different direction.
I took a few deep breaths, and as calmly as I could I replied, "You will clean this mess up."
"Okay, Mommy!"
She was relieved that grace was being dealt and didn't argue for a moment about cleaning anything. I asked her to strip her bed while I fetched the vacuum. Of course, while she could kind of clean up her mess, I knew full and well I'd be the one cleaning the majority of it. But I wasn't going to do it for her. She was going to help, and hopefully, she would learn a lesson by doing so.
I wheeled the heavy vacuum into her room and we began pushing it across the floor together. Her tiny little arms couldn't bear the weight of the vacuum and she couldn't push it to save her life. It towered over her, and although she kept saying her arms were tired, I was holding the weight of the machine. We switched out her sheets, took out her trash, and before we left her room she hugged me and said, "Thank you for helping me clean up my room, Mommy. I won't do that again,"
We are all really great at making messes. Big ones, too. And sometimes we feel like we've got to clean up our own mess but then we get started and realize we are in over our heads. We can't do it on our own. And that mess, well, it stemmed from a moment of bad decision making. Or maybe a series of it. Or maybe it was just plain disobedience. Regardless, we got ourselves into a mess and it was a lot easier to do than it will be getting ourselves out.
But what I've learned over the years is that God is willing to get down in the messes of life with us if we're willing to ask. David, a top notch mess maker, said...
"I waited patiently for the Lord;
He turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
Out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand."
-Psalm 40:1-2
He turned to me. He heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit. He set my feet on a rock. He gave me a firm place to stand.
He is the one who helps. The one who is actually doing the work. But we are the ones who must call on him and wait for his help. Does he notice the circumstances, and could he take care of them without any assistance? Sure he could. God is quite capable. Yet God also knows what happens when we participate in the process with him. We learn a lesson, our gratitude grows, the situation is actually resolved in a healthy and holy manner, and our trust in Him is deepened.
God doesn't expect us to claw and scratch our way out the slimy pits we so easily find ourselves inside. He doesn't expect us to seek out our own rock or search for a firm place to stand. God is kind. Even in the midst of our messes. He always chooses holiness, even if we probably do deserve a spanking with fire. He is slow to anger, abounding in love, and He is always gracious in all of his dealings with us.
Comments
Post a Comment