A single sun ray pierces my kitchen window. From the
magnificent brilliance in the sky, through sparse clouds, streaming between two
tall houses, this one single ray made its way through the kitchen window to
pool on my granite kitchen countertop. Sparkles that I didn’t even know were
there glinted and winked at me. Even in the darkest parts of the world, the
sun, The Son, brings light and it causes hidden things to dance. What joy this
season brings when Christ our Savior-
“Mom, something doesn’t smell right in here.”
Total holy moment, disrupted.
My PJ clad princess is standing there, mug, spoon and napkin
in hand. We had oatmeal this morning. Daddy’s gone this week to fabulous
adventures in India, so we’re doing special things here at the house. Special
like eating oatmeal out of coffee mugs and staying up “late” watching Christmas
movies and eating popcorn.
She scrunches up her nose.
“Mom, REALLY. It smells GROSS.”
I hear the clank, clank of spoon on glass as Josh is still eating his mug-o-oatmeal in the
next room.
“I know sweetie, it’s the trash can. I’ll empty it when I
finish the dishes here. Hand me your mug, please, and throw away your napkin.”
The trash can was full. It’s been full for about a day now. But
since Matthew, The Preacher, is on his fabulous adventure in India, it hasn’t
been taken out. It’s his job. I know
at some point I will actually have to empty it. But I just hadn’t. Yet.
Instead, a plastic bag from the grocery store will have to
do, perched on top of the trashcan.
There were already a number of items in on the impromptu trash bag. The cups
and straws etc., from our meal last night from Hardee’s, banana peels, used tea
bags, several instant coffee packets. It was sitting on top of the full but closed trashcan.
She hands me the mug and spoon. We catch eyes and she
smiles. I smile back, my heart nearly bursting to tears, overwhelmed by this
six year old gift. She is delightful.
Then she scrunches up her face and cocks her head to one
side. And now she is evil.
“Haha! I finished by oatmeal WAY before Joshy!”
Apparently evil has taken over my precious-one-second-ago
daughter.
Eye roll. Seriously? Sigh. Yes, she is a gift. A trying
gift.
“Bah. Be nice. Throw your napkin away then go get dressed.”
She turns to the trash can. Ah, the trash can.
Let’s think this over. Full
trash can. Plastic bag of last nights trash sitting on top. Hmm, where should the napkin go? In the can
(that the bag is sitting on top of) or in the bag?
With a dainty step, she sets her toe on the lever on the
bottom of the can and with a little creak and crunch the lid goes up and the plastic bag, the
impromptu trash bag, topples to the floor. Leftover orange soda, tea bags and
other goes-in-the-trash-never-to-be-seen-or-touched-again things spill out and
onto the floor.
“Um, Mom? There’s a mess here now,” she says as she turns and walks
towards the kitchen door.
I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation. It wasn’t
pretty.
“Mom, it smells in here,” says the last of the oatmeal
eaters. My eight-year-old Super Man walks towards me, mug and spoon in hand.
He stops mid-kitchen and makes a face.
“Ew! What is that
smell?!”
Good grief.
I look at the counter. Can I have my holy moment back
please?
Nope.
The spot of sunshine is gone now. Now all I can see is a
layer of crumbs.
The trash is cleaned up, the kids sent up to get dressed and brush their teeth.
I take in the kitchen, analyzing the remaining dishes, mentally making a
checklist of what needs to happen before tonight’s Bible Study.
