Cleaning Up My Mess

It's the sound that my nightmares are made of.  The sound that every mother cringes and bites down a scream when they hear it.  It's worse than the sound than the sound my eight year old makes when he's hurt, because I know that will just take a kiss and cuddle to make it right.  It's the kind of sound that starts out my day with the worst sort of dread.

Just stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my hair and checking out the new wrinkles and black circles under my eyes... I already feel tired when I think about what's coming today.  I send up a quick prayer asking God for patience, maybe a little kindness and please help me not to yell at my kids.  That's when I hear the sound that destroys any sense of calm...  I know what I just heard, it's unmistakable, but while I quickly throw on my yoga pants and faded t-shirt, I lie to myself and say, "surely it's not, because someone would run in here and tell me what happened."

Swinging the bedroom door open, I step into an eerie silence.  No running and screaming that normally fills the walls of my home, just quietness.  Hope soars for one fleeting second and then I see him, standing in the kitchen, with the fridge door standing wide open.  He's stuck in place, with a look of dread plastered on his face.  Surrounded by a million pieces of glass, he has no where to go in his bare feet.  Shattered glass covers the floor from one end of the kitchen to the other.  I have no idea what he broke, but it must have been big.

Wanting him to recognize WHY this ALWAYS happens to him, I ask him how the glass broke into a million tiny pieces?  My mind is screaming what, when, how, WHYYYYYYYY?  Why do you do this all the time.  My other kids jump on the opportunity to share the story of how the shattered glass has come about.  It's at this moment that my thinly veiled rage reaches the breaking point.  Why are they so gleeful when they are telling me what he did wrong?  As if they never do this kind of thing.  Why are they smirking?  Why would they even open their mouths to share his mistake, when they have done the same thing so many times before.  But, I know what it is...  they're just glad it's not them this time.

The  thing is, as much as I don't like  the broken glass on the floor, I HATE the way the other three boys are rejoicing in the mishap of their brother.  I HATE the way they take this chance to fill  me in on what he did wrong.  I HATE the way they LOVE to see someone else in the hot seat.

Walking back in my room, taking a few deep breaths to calm down, I put my contacts in so I can see the mess, which gives me a chance to not do too much damage with my words.  It really doesn't matter why it happened or if he understand why he did this again.  All that matters is he knows it's not the end of the world and mom will fix this.

When I come back out of my room there is no one in sight.  They have all fled to safety.  Somehow, he has extracted himself from the precarious situation.  The fridge is still wide open, glass still covers the floor.  He and I both know that only I can clean up this mess he's made.  There is no way he could get all the glass.  If it was a little spill, I would make him clean it up himself, but this is THE BIG ONE.  It's in every corner, tiny little slivers are stuck in the grout, glass had somehow traveled all the way to the living room.   Most of it is under the kitchen table and chairs.  I will have to move everything out of the way to get it all.  There are just some messes that a mom has to take care of.

While I'm sweeping up the glass, I see myself, stuck in the middle of a big mess of my own making.  Surrounding by a sea of broken pieces, standing barefoot, with no way to escape.  A mess that's so big I know I will never be able to do this on my own.  In fact, I see a few messes that I'm made.  Messes that I just can't clean up.  Some of them are relational...  I've hurt people and let them down.  Some are physical that are the result of bad choices, some are financial.  I see myself surrounded by the consequences of my choices and I feel stuck and overwhelmed.

While I'm cleaning up my son's mess I see clearly the truth of my situation...  I've made a mess I can't clean up.  On my own I'm stuck in it, somehow lacking what it takes to get the job done. My Father (who is nothing like me) gently asks me what happened.  I struggle through my explanation, knowing He sees the truth...  It happened because I was in a hurry.  I was impatient to get what I wanted.  I didn't take the time I needed to carefully move a few things out of the way.  I just snatched at the thing I wanted and in the process I knocked over something and broke it into a million little pieces.

He doesn't have to say anything.  I know it's my fault and to make things worse, we both know that I've done this before.  We both know that I should have learned by now what causes this to happen again and again.  With my head hung in shame for doing this again, I don't see Him take the step towards me.  I'm not sure what to expect this time. Will He leave me here in this mess?  Or will He help me again?  With broom in hand, He tells me to go on so He can sweep up the mess.  Relief washes over me, knowing that the next time I come down to the kitchen it will be as good as new.  There will be no evidence of THE BIG ONE, everything will be made right.  Only the memory will be left.

The memory of me standing in the kitchen, watching with dread as the glass hit the floor, the sound of  millions of tiny pieces bouncing in a hundred different directions.  The memory of my Father stepping in to fix what I have broken.  The memory of the grace that He has shown me time after time.

Hopefully, we will won't do this again, but both of us (my son and I) know it will most likely happen again.  We have a way of getting ourselves in messy situations.  Hopefully, we will learn NOT to do this or that and then again, probably not.  One thing we will learn for sure is sometimes we make messes too big to clean up and while we run off and try to forget about what just happened, there's someone bigger, stronger and smarter than us sweeping up the kitchen, making sure every trace is gone.

"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your loving kindness; According to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sins."  Words of David, after his sin with Bathsheba.

David's Psalm of repentance is filled with the most beautiful words ever recorded.  David's confidence before God, in spite of his terrible sin, and his assurance that in the presence of God there is forgiveness, grace and mercy, have comforted my soul a 1000 times since the day I started following Jesus.  Like David I have sinned greatly against the Lord.  I have made messes that looked hopeless, BUT through the pages of scripture I see that His mercy is new every day.  I see that nothing can separate me from the love of God.  I see that God so loved that world that He sent His only Son to clean up the messes that we have all made of our lives.  I see that the wages of my sin was death and eternal separation from God, but that He offered me another way.  I see LOVE that covers all my sin.

Friend, I don't what mess you find yourself mired in today, but I know a God, who says:

"IF my people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:14

and...  "Come to me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

and... "Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, CASTING all your cares on Him, for He cares for you."  I Peter 5:6-7

So, hand the broom over and step out of the way.  Recognize it's too big for you to fix.  Humbly take your broken heart to God, hand him all the pieces and trust Him to make all things new.  Knowing this...  ALL things work together for the good of those who love God and who are called according to His purpose...

I hate that I do this again and again, but His love for me is never more evident than when He's cleaning up my mess.