I feel the need to announce to other mothers when I have reached an event in my children's lives that is a pretty uniform, momentous, across-the-board kind of event. Well, just now I have cleaned up probably half a bottle of baby powder. [cough, cough]
I was able to vacuum most of it, wet-washcloth the rest of it out of the cracks in the floorboards, and there's a bin of cars and car tracks next to the sink waiting to be rinsed. (My airways will be another story, simply requiring water and time, I fear.) I was washing dishes in the kitchen when I started smelling it. I thought I might've picked something up that had some on it; my 2yo son likes to squeeze the bottle, even though it's closed, to see the little poof of air. I keep taking it away. But when I started smelling it, I never thought...
Then my 4yo starts calling me from the living room. I gave my standard "I'm right here" response (because I am not a beck-and-call kind of mom; if you need me, come find me). He yelled louder. "Lij!" I said. "Come find me!" He yelled louder. "Elijah!!!" I turned around from the sink to march down the hallway, but I was already seeing the cloud being blown around by the air current from the backyard door. "Oh, NOOOO, Matthew! No, no, no, no, no!!!!" as I entered the living room to see my white rugs, white cars, white tracks, white wood floor, and white-legged, white-haired son. He dutifully put his head down and, agreeing with me, shook his head no.
I got a wet washcloth and wiped down his legs, then air-lifted him out of the mess onto a clean spot of floor in the hallway. Then I collected the cars and tracks and put the bin by the sink. I retrieved my parents' vacuum (I have a new one for myself on my wish list) and vacuumed what I could (there's still some there, because - let's face it - it'll wear away eventually). I finished by wiping down everything else - desk chair, desktop (keyboard before I started typing), plastic bag of Stuff, bookshelf legs, and finally....a tropical fish magazine.
He really does.)
This last year has been a long one. A tough one. A growing one. One where, more than I can count, I've said "whyyyyyy?" I have not understood what the plan is, I have not understood the reasons, I have not known what the outcome will be. I have learned to trust (mostly), and have faith.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. (1 Corinth. 13:12, NASB)I don't know about you, but I cannot WAIT 'til I see face to face. I can't wait to know fully. I can't wait 'til I see everything with all the baby powder wiped off. How bright and beautiful it will be, as something only God can create.
(Incidentally, it's fortunate that my coffee was in the kitchen with me, and not in the powder keg.)