A conversation in the morning

I have a 4 year old who drinks a bottle at bedtime and naptime.
Sometimes I want to scream when I wash them.
Because I am afraid that she will never grow up.

I have a 5 year old and a 7 year old who haven't learned to make their beds.
Without prompting.
And I am afraid they are going to turn out just like me.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow:
for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. 
Sufficient unto the day is the trouble thereof.
(Matthew 6:34)
I will still be with you when Amy is 30.
Whether or not she is still using a bottle to keep from seizing.
You know it's not your responsibility to keep her safe, right?
And you know I like you just the way you are?
That your daughter's failures when they're 30 will just bring them to me?

The diaper pail stands cracked open. 
The fumes fill the room.
I kick myself for not dumping it yesterday when it started to grow stale.

I have a four year old who wears a diaper at night.
If she can take it off herself, and put it IN the diaper pail,
shouldn't she be old enough to quit peeing in it?

Just shut the pail, Gen.
Why do you ask these questions?
Do you really think you're a failure because poop stinks 
and the child with the brain infection still pees at night? 


Blessed is the woman who remains steadfast under trial, 
for when she has stood the test she will receive the crown of life 
(even if Amelia pees at night for the next 45 years), 
which God has promised to those who love him. 
(James 1:12; gender switch mine)

Okay, leaving the bathroom.
I hear the kids in the kitchen.
The oldest served breakfast, praise God.
One less thing for me to do.

Or perhaps several extra things to do.

Don't cry over spilled milk.

What about the Cheerio spackle on my cupboards, Lord? Can I cry about that?

Sure, you can cry about it.
But don't wound your children with your words 
when they're just being children. You may not do that.

I tell you the truth, whatever you did 
for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me. 
I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, 
you did not do for me.
(Matthew 25:40 & 45)

Do you remember breaking this door frame?
Sending the door flying against frame so fast sparks almost flew with it?
And the sparks came off your tongue and burned your children?
Remember slamming the door with all your might,
and the trim came loose?
I remember it because a drop of my blood paid for it.
I know, too, why you did it - I'm there with you, I see all your thoughts.
You slammed the door so you wouldn't slam them.

Yes, Lord. I will never forget it.

You don't do it anymore.
That's how faith is the victory.
Your house is still messy.
You still hate that your house is messy,
and half the tears you cry to me are about your messes.
But I taught you with messes. I taught you not to scream at your children.

I am still teaching you to be a servant.

Being a servant means you can't only serve as long as everyone agrees to keep it clean.
And not to make certain messes.
Being a servant means being on your knees,
scrubbing Cheerios off the cupboards.
Cleaning up the milk.
Dumping the diaper pail, however stinky.
Washing bottles for as long as I tell you to wash bottles.

...many who are first will be last, and the last first. 
(Matthew 19:30)

Truly, truly, I say to you, 
unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, 
it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit
(John 12:24)