“Mom! He hit the wall and it shot straight up!” Yes, there are moments like today, when I can be honest and confess to loving that ceramic throne. You know, the one that drives its contents down with one flush. It’s sad. Motherhood remains humbling enough already, but on mornings like these, I now wish I could’ve stayed in bed. 

I gather my supplies and begin climbing the stairs with my bucket, rag, and a ruffle trimmed plastic gloves in hand. At the top, there it is, strewn across the floor and splattered up the white wall. All I can think about are my growing list of questions. 

How am I going to chip those pieces off of the wall?

Why didn’t he make it to the toilet? 

Was the light off?  

After a lung cleansing sigh, I snap on the protective plastic glove and press the tubes over my fingers. I fold down unto my knees and their popping noises remind me I am not a limber young mom any longer. A few more questions float around in my mind like white mental clouds.

Why am I cleaning this up? 

How long can I hold my breath?

I then peel a strip of paper towel up off of the carpet only to reveal a sinister cover up.  Nothing was accomplished in the clean-up department following the event. The lentils are sticking like dry crusty bugs on both the wall and the twisting carpet fibers. My three year old takes a leap into my lake of self pity:

“Mom, can I help? Can I come up there? Can I rub your back?” 

That last question softens my bitterness and yet, I confess to my unwilling surrender to brighter options. Sadly, I prefer to remain all consumed with my own ideas during the lengthy scrub down. It’s at that moment a chuckle rips from my throat–God just might want to reveal something in this fiasco.

    In moments like these, when my anxiety is bounding, what might I consider gratefulness for?  Maybe, that my current enemy right now is only lentil soup covered in stomach juices and not something much worse. Or maybe that God wants to free my mind and life from the deception of anxiety. This last Sunday, I was reminded that I face choices to replay my anxious thoughts on my own mental screen. The images are relentless and replay without my even realizing it until I feel panic, helpless, and worn out. 
Here is what I’ve walked away with:
  • God uses gratefulness and thankfulness to guard our minds.
  • We must trust God to look right into our hearts and teach us.
God has revealed that I’ve become weak at asking myself and family members, what are you grateful for?  I share so this so you might receive encouragement today. Let’s ask God together–to make us a grateful people, full of trust, and full of faith in God’s power to make right all things wrong.  It’s true, in life, we may never know what a day may bring, but I do believe that God wants  our grateful hearts even when we’re cleaning up flu bug vomit. He wants us to trust His working all things, all things, all things, for the good of those who love him.



A Letter Written to a Church in Rev. 3:14-21