I want to give you a smile this morning perhaps an actual belly laugh. The following story was written by one of my young friends whom I met through my daughter. Alicia’s blog is a wonderful encouragement to all women but especially to moms, you will find her at www.aliciabruxvoort.net.
“What do you REALLY want for Mother’s Day?” ten-year-old Lizzy asked as I stashed the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and wiped sticky drizzles of caramel off of the kitchen counter.
I glanced at the clock, at my ratty pajamas, and at my toddler who had just waddled into the room with a diaper sagging to her knees. My husband was already taking care of his patients at the hospital. My preschooler had already decorated his new church clothes with grass stains. And my washing machine was wailing just below us. The white load I’d tossed in at midnight was begging for an overdue relocation to the dryer. Church would begin in 90 minutes.
I smiled at my blue-eyed girl. “I think I’d just like to take a hot shower today.”
Lizzy raised an eyebrow at my unexciting request; then shrugged her shoulders. “Well that should be easy enough…”
She grabbed her baby sister by the hand and headed for the nursery in search of a clean diaper. I glanced out the window to confirm my middle children’s whereabouts. Josh and Hannah were pushing doll strollers across the dew-dripped grass and chatting like two little old ladies on a morning stroll. My firstborn was tucked away in his bedroom with a good book and my dishwasher was humming as happily.
Perhaps Lizzy was right. Maybe my Mother’s Day wish was simple. In fact, if my eldest daughter was correct, I might even have time to take a quick soak in the Word before I soaked in the theraputic stream of a steamy shower.
Grabbing my orange coffee cup and my Bible, I hurried to the master bath. I closed the door and locked it for good measure. Then I sat on top of the closed toilet lid with my Bible in hand. Not exactly a cozy spot, but quiet. I opened to the Psalms and read aloud: “My soul follows hard after you: your right hand upholds me…” (Psalm 63:8).
My litany was interrupted by a rhythmic knocking on the bathroom door. “Mom?” my seven-year-old probed. “What are you doing in there?”
“I’m taking a shower,” I replied.
“But I don’t even hear the water running.”
“I was just getting in now,” I explained.
“Well, can you hurry, because we’ve got a problem…”
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I book marked my Psalm.
“Josh just stepped in dog poop with his church shoes. He stinks!”
I’ll be out in a minute,” I assured Hannah as I set my Bible down and turned the shower on full-blast. “Just pull off his shoes and leave them on the front steps.”
I saw the bathroom door handle turning before the little voice hollered.
“Mom?” Mr. Poopy-shoes yelled.
“Yes?”
“Are you on the potty?”
I glanced at my improvised chair and giggled. “Yes.”
“Is it stinky?”
I inhaled the savory aroma of my creme brulee coffee beans. “No, it smells quite nice.”
“Well then what’s taking you so long?” Josh whined.
“I dunno,” I stuttered. “Do you have your shoes on?” I pictured a brown path of dog poop criss-crossing my freshly-cleaned carpets.
“No, but will you come out and help me find my green flip flops?”
Another voice joined the discussion behind the door.
“Leave Mom alone, buddy,” my mini-man urged his little brother. “She’s the queen today and right now she’s on the throne!”
I laughed out loud at the perfect picture of motherhood: Me- perched on my humble porcelain throne as I attempt to draw near to another.
So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most. Hebrews 4:16
One thing I never expected when I first became a mother was how desperate I would become for time with my Heavenly Father. Desperate and determined.
I slipped out of my pajamas and hung my towel on the rack next to the shower. I tossed up a prayer of thanks for the day that stretched ahead and I stepped beneath the shower’s steady stream of hot water.
“Mom! Maggie’s in the yard.” The declaration was accompanied by a frenzied drum roll of pounding fists. I surrendered my dream of a long lingering soak.
“That’s okay,” I poked my head out of the shower. “I’ll be right out.”
“But she’s out there in her church shoes…”
I pictured the poopy sandals on my front steps and decided not to worry about the dog droppings that my toddler might find on her morning walk.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, shivering from the cold as I hung halfway out of the shower. “I’ll go get her as soon as I’m done.”
The tattle-tale paused. “Um, Mom….”
“Yes?”
“Her church shoes are ALL she has on.”
I glanced through the steam-laced bathroom windows and spotted my youngest child. With great delight, she was dancing across the gorgeous green grass in her glitzy gold sandals and her birthday suit.
I quickly rinsed the soapy lather from my hair and turned off the water.
“Mom?” Lizzy sang through the door in an apologetic tone, “I really think we NEED you…”
I wrapped a towel around my dripping body and hurried to unlock the door. On a Mother’s Day not so far from now, I may begin my morning with a hot soak and a luscious linger in the Word. But today, I’m thankful for the mob beyond my bathroom door and the One who showers me daily with His strength to meet their needs.
Grabbing my orange coffee cup and my Bible, I hurried to the master bath. I closed the door and locked it for good measure. Then I sat on top of the closed toilet lid with my Bible in hand. Not exactly a cozy spot, but quiet. I opened to the Psalms and read aloud: “My soul follows hard after you: your right hand upholds me…” (Psalm 63:8). 
