Creamy corn and roasted, red pepper soup had left it's mark all over his squishy, two year old cheeks.
He smiled, backed away, and wiped his soupy face all over the arm of my rocking chair.
I don't know if it was his defiance or the mess that made my blood pressure rise.
I washed his face anyway. Just to prove to him that I'm still in charge and momma WILL HAVE her way.
That's when I could feel the very last ounce of patience leaving my body today.
I'm not God - just the momma.
I found myself muttering to my Maker,
"I WANT to be holy, but these PEOPLE in my life... you know?!?!?"
There are ashes all over my forehead right now. Reminding me of my nothingness.
Shouting out, "YOU NEED A SAVIOR!"
The priest at Mass this morning reminded us that Lent is a time to EMPTY ourselves -
not as some pious act of trying to redeem ourselves or to "get straight" with God,
but so that there is ROOM for God to come in, purify, and LIVE.
What's in the way, Lord?
Apparently you want me to empty myself of IMPATIENCE - so that You can fill me with patience.
Maybe? I hope so. Because I need it. I'm asking.
After communion I told my littlest one that he should blow Jesus a kiss.
He said, "HUG."
I said, "Ok."
He then proceeded to hug ME.
Now I'm not claiming to be Jesus, but my heart melted and I could hear the Lord whispering to ME,
"Brittany, when you hug your child, you are hugging ME."
I instantly had visions of the every day "little things" with my children and almost cried.
"YOU are in those moments, Lord?"
Sometimes I stand around pouting over not having the kind of time or attention
with God that I USE to have... before kids and all.
But I realized this morning that He comes to me in the form of my children...
in the form of the craziness. In the form of creamy corn and roasted red pepper soup
marks all over my rocking chair and flying tortilla chips.
Yes, that is happening as I write. DEEP BREATHS.
I'm working on emptying myself so that Christ can fill me up.
God, am I holy yet?