it's sunday morning. we're all vying for the bathroom, the iron, a quick breakfast and the coffee pot. the boys, my husband and son, finally emerge from the bathroom and the girls, myself and my daughter, finally get our turn.
oh. no. they. didn't.
the scene in the bathroom is horrific. on the counter are tooth brushes, dribbled mouth wash, smeared tooth paste, razor and shaving cream.
i suck in a deep breath and start to clean up the mess so that i can take my turn to get ready for church. so that i can make myself presentable for the Lord on His Sabbath day. i fume having to clean up this mess before i can even start the mad rush of trying to make myself seem presentable and lady like.
i shout out the bathroom door, "you boys are fired!"
they know what i mean. they know why i say it.
momentary quiet fills the house while i start the quick job.
...then i hear, "i'm not fired in Jesus." a small boys voice calls back. it's not in defiance. it's not that nannie-nannie-boo-boo sing-song voice. it's just simply stated. for a few seconds i freeze and the house grows still.
"what?!?" i call down the hall in a voice ready to leap. is that boy getting smart with me - while i clean up after him - while i'm in a mad rush to get cleaned up myself?
his little voice repeats its innocent truth, "i'm not fired in Jesus."
the breath is squeezed out of me by my own guilt. down the hall, in the opposite direction, i hear my husband chuckling under his breath, "that's right boy!" he cheers him on. "you'll never be fired in Jesus!" the husband, truth coaxing and proud of his young boy.
i stand still in my attitude, my finger pointing and my anger. truth spoken by a four year who sounds as wise as a one hundred and four year old, reminding me how far from being presentable and lady like for the Lord on His Sabbath day i truly am.
i exhale the deep sucked in air of tension and hang my head out the bathroom door, " that's right buddy. you'll never be fired in Jesus," i agree with him proudly yet humbled and dressed in shame.
i wipe blue mouth wash off white counter tops and i am seeing blood drip from splintered tree and never once do i hear from the cross about my mess that He continues to clean up. never once do i hear in my inner spirit, from an all knowing God, that i am fired. i never will.
the wise boy with words so deep passes the bathroom and i call him in. back tracking he appears in the doorway with a fresh pressed, button down shirt and clean, sharp edged, shorts. he could have been crusted over in mud and wreck of early morning, spring air and he would have been more presentable and ready for the Lord on this Sabbath day, then i with my hair ready and dressed in my best.
i cup his face in my hands, kiss the tip of his nose, "i love you boy."
placing his hand on my shoulder, reassurance from a child, "i love you too mommy." and he's off down the hall to find his shoes.
we will never be fired in Jesus. how many times a day do i fire my family? often i tell me them, "and don't even think about a letter of recommendation." this is supposed to be my funny way of dealing with life that doesn't go my way, but really? what does it say about me? what does it say about how far i have to go to grow.
i look in the mirror and realize their is simply no need to try today. anther purposefully messy bun it is. another pulled together look reflecting the pulled together attitude i have.
isn't this the enemy? the snare of the belly crawler? any other morning, on any other day of the week and it would have gone so much more different - better. even waking before dawn at 3:00a.m. so as to share the car with my husband, even those mornings go, by far, more smoother.
somehow, i've been giving the enemy of my soul a hold and choosing defeat on a morning that should be the easiest to recognize it. knowing their is an evil desire to callous my heart over so as to keep me from receiving the God bread of Life that is to fed my soul. it never fails. almost every sunday morning, the rush to get ready for church is always that - a rush; a mad rush. the drive to church is silent as i whisper prayers of confession to the Almighty and the walk to Sunday school is always the conversation of my asking my children or husband for forgiveness for my bad attitude.
i see it now. i see it in the deep words spoken by a four and half year old boy who simply stated, "i'm not fired in Jesus." and thankfully i am not ever fired in Jesus either.
He continues to teach me and uses my children almost all the time to do it. i am so thankful that i haven't been and never will be fired in Jesus. in fact, i feel as though i have just been given a promotion. more responsibility with this knowledge of the way that i tend to be and how wrong it is. how easy it is to humbly accept correction from a God who does so through my children, who does so so lovingly, who i know, will never fire me.