My 3 year old, Asher has been potty trained for a while now. He does fantastic during the day, but at night he still wears a pull-up. Every morning he and Isaac wake up with droopy drawers. Up until recently they knew the drill. Every morning I clean their bottoms and give them a fresh pull-up and a new pair of underpants. A clean bum is a happy bum, right? Well, a couple of weeks ago Asher decided that having a clean heiny is not worth the discomfort of the changing process.Now when they wake up, Isaac lays down without a fuss, gets cleaned up and moves on to face the day. Asher on the other hand, denies that he has pooped, begs for me to leave him alone and only surrenders when the changing is almost complete. Because I love him I still change him. I did it yesterday, I did it today, and I will do it tomorrow.
One morning after going through this whole process once again, I realized something. When God reveals to me the poo in my life, how often do I deny that it is there? Or I say, “God please don’t change me! The way that I am really isn’t all that bad. ” Change is uncomfortable and sometimes even painful. As God wipes away the mess he reveals my flesh, often blistered and broken. He brings me to a place of surrender and heals my wounds. I know that He will continue to change me day by day.
Thank you God for loving me!
May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through.
May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.
1 Thessalonians 5:23-24
If you have ever been to the grocery store with a child to buy bread you know the lengths you go through to protect it from being squished.
You pick it up after the rest of your groceries (or at least do your best to keep it at the top of the mound.), try to keep it out of reach of the little one, gently place it on the conveyor belt, watch carefully as the cashier bags it, and it is the last thing that you put into the car.
Shortly after Hosannah was born I finally worked up the courage to brave the grocery store with all three kids. With Hosannah in the Moby wrap, I hunted down a double buggy with both straps functional. I buckled Asher, not quite 3 and Isaac at just over a year old, into their seats and set out. All was well until 3 minutes into our shopping trip when Asher decided to pinch his brother. Isaac, who did not quite grasp the concept of retaliation quite yet, let out a loud scream. After multiple attempts to quietly ease the situation I didn’t have much choice but to move Isaac into the front of the buggy, and out of reach of his antagonizing brother. As our quest continued I spent more time chasing shoes and pacifiers and defending half-opened boxes of cereal than I did actually shopping. Alas, the time came to get the bread. I placed it in the far end of the Shopping cart. As I made my way to the checkout I looked down just in time to see Isaac pulling at the loaf of bread. Thanks to the massive heap of groceries, there was no safe place for my tender loaf. As I began to unload groceries onto the conveyor belt I continually rescued the bread from the hands of my curious toddler. The cashier (Who obviously had no experience with children) seemed completely unaware of my flustered state and impatiently handed me bag after bag to place into my cart. With the groceries finally paid for, as I headed for the door Hosannah started squalling. Deciding it would be impossible to calm the baby, push the buggy and guard the bread all at the same time, I gave in. I handed the bread to Isaac and watched him laugh as he squished to his heart’s content.
I realized at that point, my children will be small for such a little while. There will come a day that I will eat my perfectly shaped sandwich with only the memory and wish for just one more loaf of squished bread.
With this in mind, I am writing this blog as way to remind myself to cherish these times…
All of them.