The Minefield and Moat

We gather for lunch and sit perched up around our small island in the kitchen. My three sweet babes and me pray for our food. The prayer is interrupted by what sounded like water splashing on the floor. My oldest recognized the splash as fast as I did and said “Oh no, mama…”
All look at Jed.
“Uh-O,” says my handsome son looking down to his lap. I sighed and hesitated to walk around to his side of the island.
“Jed, peed,” squealed the middle one, laughing. “You peed, buddy,” stating the obvious, again.
I shake my head. Even though I did forget to replace the diaper he had previously destroyed, I thought for sure his timing was to spite me.

I pick him up at arms length and fly him to the hall bathroom, dripping urine across the hard wood floor. Midway, I remember the tuna melts in the oven. “Sit. Don’t move” I shout and plop him on the toilet. I quickly tip-toe to the oven and shout orders to my girls as if I have just discovered a minefield. “Stay on your stools, girls!”
I pull out the pan of tuna melts (not burnt), and as I close the oven door I faintly recognize the sound of a cup tumbling on the counter behind me. “Uh-o…Sorry, mama,” confesses the giggly one.
I sigh.
“Ugh,” I think, “how can she spills her drink every meal? I mean every meal!” The two girls are now marooned at the island with apple juice and urine pooling on the floor around their stools like a moat.
Then he calls. “Mama, ‘ont canny!” he yells loudly, making sure I hear him. He is convinced he needs a treat for peeing in the toilet (which he actually did not do). “Canny, mama.”
“Stay on the toilet, buddy. “ I holler back. I can tell he is getting impatient waiting on me to return.
The girls ask questions and make suggestions for the clean up process while I sop up the moat and spray down the minefield. I pick up the little man from off the toilet; lay him on his changing station in his room across the hall and clean him up, making sure to put a fresh diaper on him.
We return to the island in the kitchen. Frustrated, I prepare their plates. Twisting back and forth from the island to the stove for the tuna melts, I notice the magnet someone had sent me in a care package a few weeks ago. I had absent-mindedly place it on my microwave. It read: This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it – Psalm 118:24

This is the magnet on the microwave.

This is the magnet on the microwave.

I am taken back and a bit confused… When I slapped the magnet up on the microwave the other day I was more or less just trying to get it out of the way. I mean, I am sure I have read this verse like a million times. But in this moment, this verse is like fresh water to my soul!

This IS the day that The Lord has made! He has made it with circumstances that will push me to recognize Him, not me. He uses times like this to draw me closer to him. He uses these moments in my day, the ones he sees, to conform me to HIS IMAGE! Nothing catches God off guard or sets him back on his purpose for his glory. Somehow, he works them all for HIS GOOD and HIS purposes. Each day, and everything in it, is like a gift God gives to us…

So, I will rejoice and be glad in it. I do not want to live wound up tightly over small things, twist my face to be downcast and sad while spending my time counting the bad circumstances in my life. I need to look for the joy that surrounds each moment that The Lord has made.

Be encouraged today in whatever circumstances pop up and surprise you.
God has made today.
Rejoice and be glad in it!


2 thoughts on “The Minefield and Moat

  1. Love this! It is easy to be frustrated in those moments when there is only one of you and it seems like 50 of them. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s