So last night I had just pulled Kasiah out of the bathtub. She was wearing her princess pink robe and we were combing her princess golden hair. Suddenly I heard "Uh Oh Mommy! Uh Oh!"
I looked behind me and Dyson was proceeding to climb out of the bathtub. "No Dyson!" I yelled, afraid he was going to slip. When I got closer, I saw what had happened. Yes, you guessed it, he pooped in the bathtub. Or maybe you didn't guess it. Maybe you're one of the lucky ones who has never had the priviledge of your bath water being sprinkled with the latest bath beads (scented"poopy pineapple pomegranate").
Needless to say, this was typical for our household. I took the kids upstairs, carrying naked Dyson who was repeatedly saying, "Poop, Mommy. Poop, Mommy."
"Yes Dyson, you pooped."
Jeremy, sitting at the computer heard what I said. Without me even having a chance to complain, he grabbed his crutches and hobbled across the living room toward the bathroom.
"I got it." He said.
"What?" I asked. "No Honey, I can clean it up."
"No, I got it!" He replied with a "no problem" tone of voice.
Now, Jeremy's cleaned up poopy bathwater before, such as the nights I'm not home. But never this willingly, especially on a night when Mrs. "Turd Tolerance" was home. I didn't have time to digest the moment because the kids demanded all of me. But later that night, after they were safely tucked away, that moment sunk deep into my heart. Jeremy (again) had just painted the perfect picture of Christ.
I thought about how often I make a huge mess of myself. And when I do, I sometimes (like my one year old) do what I can to get out of it. I'm not proud of it. But compared to the knowledge of God, I'm not fully capable of understanding it's utter disgust, either. And I certainly don't understand what it takes to clean it up!
Like Jeremy, Christ has given me the freedom to say "Uh Oh! Sorry!" and then walk away. He lovingly cleans up my disgusting mess. Never complaining. Everytime. Why? Because I'm his child, and He loves me.
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