Thursday, January 22, 2015

Poop in the Bathtub.

I know every mom has this struggle. It's like Russian roulette except not potentially deadly, just potentially really inconvenient. You put your baby in the bathtub to clean up for bedtime, and you see it--the huge belly full of woe.

"Adeline," I say, "Please. If you feel like you need to poopoo, please tell Mommy, okay?"
"No, Adeline, I need you to actually know what you're saying. What are you going to say if you need to poopoo?"
"No, I need you to say 'MAMA! POOPOO!' as loud as you can so I can hear you while I'm cleaning your room, okay?"
"What are you going to say if you have to poopoo when you're in the bathtub?"
"Yes, that's exactly what you say."

I go to clean her room really quickly, and hear her playing in the bathtub, undoubtedly splashing water all over the place. Water is easy to clean up, though, so who cares? As I'm putting away the last few of her toys I hear her say "Mama, Addie, Mama, Addie...(this is an echoing game she likes to play with me, except she plays it by herself a lot, too)."

Then silence for a second, then the most pitiful little "...Mama?"
I walk into the bathroom and her little significant accident is floating all around her.
"...Mama? Poopoo."
I heave a big sigh. I lay a towel on the floor to soak up the water she splashed everywhere, rinse her quickly, then sit her on it and wrap a big towel around her and ask her to wait there while I begin to clean up the mess. As I'm cleaning she reaches for me and again, in a tiny voice, "...Mama?"
"Just a minute, sweetie, Mommy has to clean the mess."
I can hear tears in it this time. "Mama?"

I turn, and--arms still open, misty eyed--she says, "Sowwy."

What kind of one and a half year old offers a sincere apology like that?! Without missing a beat I scoop up the toddler in a big, clumsy hug.

Now, I have found a parallel in this whole situation that easily lines up with a person's relationship with God, and I realize for some it may be obvious, but I still felt like it was a lesson I needed to sit, think about, write out, and share.

After the drama of the moment had passed and I sat rocking her and going through our usual bedtime routine of pointing out every animal toy or picture she can see in the room and making its sound (the monkey's sound is usually repeated at least eight times), lots of hugs complete with "AWHHH"s and nose kisses, I rocked Addie for a minute and said, "You know what, Addie? Some day when you understand that Mommy and Daddy can't clean up all of your messes, you'll learn that Jesus cleans them up for you. He cleans up Mommy's messes all the time. Let's say our goodnight prayer and thank Jesus for cleaning up our messes." Now, as crazily self-aware as her apology was for her age, at this point she can only say "Dear Dog" and "Amen" (she is going to be really confused when she finally says "God" instead of "Dog" and realizes there isn't a heavenly labradoodle watching over us), so I realize this thought went right over her head; however, I needed to say it out loud for my own sake.

How many times does the Holy Spirit move us and convict us when we are abiding by our own strength instead of His, and yet we move right along and don't ask for His guidance until we have already made a mess of things? And, when we finally look around and realize we can't clean it up, we're like, "...God?"

Although, I don't think He heaves a big, victimized sigh like I did. I think when we come to him full of sincere repentance, He does scoop us up like that. He cleans the mess we've made in our hearts, and teaches us to do the right thing, and how to wisely handle whatever consequences come our way.

If you need God's help and forgiveness, ask Him, and he will gladly give it. And don't worry, everyone poops in the bathtub at least once.

No comments:

Post a Comment