Sometimes Serving Joyfully Means You'll Just Pee Your Pants.

And I mean that in all seriousness.

The other day, I heard shrieks from the bathroom. It was number two screaming about "poop all over!" from number five. I rushed frantically into the bathroom to assess the situation. And, to my horror, there WAS poop. Everywhere. On my daughter Lily's pants, on her hands, and on the floor, and she sat on the white linoleum on her bottom, wide-eyed, with her legs and arms in the air, as to not touch anything with her diarrhea covered extremities.

I looked at Lily, our eight-year-old, and made a horrified mom face.

I looked at my diaper-less Evelynn, who is two, and my horrified mom face got even uglier and more contorted.

But then things took a turn for grosser. Evelynn looked at me and threw up all over the diarrhea covered floor. She was screaming, and obviously horrified at what was taking place.

And then, to add to the chaos, one of my daughters is terrified of throwing up. She can't stand the sound of another person throwing up, and the thought of her getting sick and throwing up sends her into a panic. We're working on that. But, for some reason, she came into the commotion to see what was going on, and now.... she was crying.

There was poop. There was throw up. There was screaming. There was crying. I felt like I had stepped out of my body and was watching a reality TV show or something.

And there I was. Hunched over in my yoga pants and hoodie, holding onto Evie, coaxing her through her vomit fest, reassuring her everything was A-okay, when I realized, (as I have many times in horrifying mommy moments such as this), that I had to make a choice. A choice to either start freaking out on my kids because of my own stress level, or laugh. Because the Proverb is true: A merry heart does good like a medicine, but a broken spirit dries that bones.

I chose laughter. As I released the first bought of giggling, it quickly turned into a stomach muscle workout as my giggles evolved into a full-fledged belly laugh.

Lily was in weird yoga position covered in poop.

Evie had no diaper, and was covered in puke and diarrhea.

The floor was so colorfully decorated with shades of not-so-solid poo and vomit.

And there was vomit on my socks.

And I realized the hilariousness of my situation.

I laughed so hard, until I started shrieking.

Shrieking the words, "I peed my pants!"

I had personally just made the situation much, much worse.

Lily was begging me to help her, and Evie was so. mad.

I eventually regained my composure and put Evie into the bathtub where she would be confined for a moment so I could help her poo-covered, older sister.

I helped Lily, bathed Evie, mopped my floor, and all was well in the muthah-hood.

Just like that, things could have either gone very, very bad, or very, very good. And I've chosen the bad too many times to count. A child throws up, or makes a mess... because they're children... and I lose it because things aren't going my way. And now they've given me MORE work to do. Because I didn't already have enough already?! And I blame them for inconveniencing me.

And then I remember.

I remember that my Savior held nothing back when He loved me.

He held nothing back.

I choose to withhold my love from my children in the times that it would most impact their lives, because why? Of course they know that I love them when they are good and things are easy-breezey, but what about the times when things are smelly and ugly and messy?

He held nothing back, and he joyfully served mankind. He served mankind when we were smelly and ugly and messy.

This time, in this very messy and disgusting moment, God pulled me through it because I let Him. He was always willing, but I was insubordinate and stubborn. This time, I trusted Him with the outcome and obeyed. I joyfully served my children who needed their mama. Joyfully. It wasn't just because I had to clean up their mess and I did it without complaining and without a smile. The Lord changed my heart and I served my children with joy.

Not in my flesh, but in the power of His Spirit.

See, He's still joyfully serving and helping us.

I hope that one day, my daughters will remember their mama laughing over their messes, so they'll be able to laugh as they remember their childhood. Their childhood of learning how to joyfully serve each other by watching their parents.

Joyfully serving means that you may just pee your pants.

God Multiplied the Enchiladas

Yes. God multiplied the enchiladas.

So my friend came over, and I knew she wasn't doing well. I didn't know details. I didn't ask. But when she entered my house, I knew that she was bringing baggage and was hurting. We sat at my kitchen table and drank cold water from jars. It was the fall, so she brought me apples.

And we talked.

I wanted to help, but if she didn't want to share, I didn't want to ask. But she opened up to me, and began telling me of her pain and her husband and her dreams and her uncertain future that was ahead of her.

And I stared. Wide-eyed. Mouth open. I didn't even know what to say. I hurt for her. I loved this girl. I loved her family. And she couldn't go home in the state she was in. She had to stay in my home and I needed to love on her.

So I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"You have to stay for dinner. You can't leave. You're staying."

Knowing full well that I had one pan of enchiladas that a sweet friend had made for our family.

Now, this beautiful, pained woman has five children; two of them being growing, teenage boys. And I, myself, had five children and was pregnant with my sixth.

And I had one pan of enchiladas.

But I just knew she couldn't leave. She was going to stay for dinner, and I just knew that God was going to take care of everything.

I put the enchiladas in the oven and prayed. I put the beans and rice on the stove and prayed. I dumped the cheese in the bowl and prayed. We set the table and I prayed.

We got all ten children seated around our little table in the kitchen and filled their plates. And we filled our plates. And I set aside some for my husband who was on his way home.

Everyone ate to their belly's content. Everyone was satisfied. And slowly, slowly everyone got up from the table and went on to their own activities.

My friend and I chatted a bit longer, and then I got up to start cleaning up the aftermath of ten children eating dinner together. I looked into the pan of the enchiladas, and there was about one whole enchilada left. I gently scooped out the leftovers out of the pan with a spoon. I placed them into a plastic container, sealed the lid, and set them on the shelf in our refrigerator.

I remember being so excited, because I was quite certain that I just had just relived the miracle of the fish and the loaves of bread in the Bible!

Okay.... so I know it wasn't quite the same thing, but, on some level, it was the same thing for me. Had I thought with this human brain of mine, it wouldn't have made sense. If I had analyzed, it wouldn't have worked. I felt like God was saying, "Just trust me on this. I got it. I can do way bigger things than this. You know that one time when I created the world and everything? Yeah... just trust Me." And He is so faithful. Oh, so very faithful.