Poop and Praise

This can’t be happening to me.I cannot handle this. It’s just too much.

Supposedly God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, but I think he just messed up because I cannot handle this! My plate is already full. Two little girls 1 ½ years apart, a one-year-old boy with special needs and now I’m pregnant! How did this happen? Well, I know how it happened, but how did it happen? I’m already taking Dillon to doctor and therapist appointments several times a week and trying to be a good mom for the girls. How in the world am I going to add another child into the mix? Maybe if I just stay in bed all day, it will all go away.

I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming toward my bedroom. “Mommy, can I have some oatmeal for breakfast?”

No, life doesn’t go away if I stay in bed all day. It comes to find me in the way of a small child.

Lord make me an instrument of your peace. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear you all around me. Allow me the honor of embodying you Jesus, as I am your hands and feet to the people around me today.

Out of bed I go to cook oatmeal while I vomit in the kitchen sink.

On our way to the field trip at the art museum I pray that Dillon doesn’t get a poopy diaper while we’re out. Changing his diaper in public is an awful mess. At home I sometimes change it in the bathtub for easier clean up. Something is awry with his metabolism so when you put one banana into his mouth you get 5 gallons of poop out the other end. Sure enough he has a dirty diaper and I have to change it in the public bathroom. There’s no changing table so I use the floor. Poop is everywhere; all up his back, on the floor, he is wiggling around getting it everywhere. Women walk out in disgust. One woman says under her breath “some people are so dirty”. Morning sickness makes me want to gag and public shame makes me want to sob.

Then I hear a voice “be thankful there is poop coming out.”

Wait, what?

Oh right, it is a good thing that his intestinal system is working. It could be much worse if he didn’t produce any poop. Not to minimize my problem, but I want to be thankful for all the systems that ARE working right.

On the way home I start going through all the bodily systems that work right in Dillon.

There are TONS!

All the doctors and therapist always focus on what needs to be fixed, but there is so much more that is working right. Thank you for his eyes, the glasses that help him see, his ears, arms, legs, liver, kidneys, spleen, (there is so much to be thankful for that I never saw before). I rattle through all the anatomy I can remember from my college classes. Oh and God, thank you for his adorable face and precious heart. Thank you so much for my son’s heart.

Who knew cleaning up poop could open my heart to all the things I am grateful for? It opened up a place in my own heart I didn’t know was closed. Of course I hate poop, but thank you God for it. I let all the seemingly difficult circumstances around me spoil my eyes to see and ears to hear God at work in everything. God is here with me; in this new life forming inside me, in my wonderful girls, in my special son. He’s even in the poop coming out of him!

That night I start a praise journal.

I wanted my sleep to be bathed in appreciation. I’m grateful for indoor plumbing, running water, children who force me out of bed to cook for them, clothes for everyone, a car with gas to go to the museum, the list goes on and on for a long time until I nod off writing and I’m grateful for new life inside of me. The next morning I write on the facing page everything that I’m looking forward to in the day. A new set of clothes for everyone, more food at least 3 times, hugs and kisses and tears and shouts of anger and laughs of joy, learning how to parent while vomiting, seeing God at work through my kids and on and on it goes.

Lord make me an instrument of your peace. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear you all around me. Allow me the honor of embodying you Jesus, as I am your hands and feet to the people around me today.

Out of bed I go to cook Hannah her oatmeal before she even asked for it, while I vomit in the kitchen sink.

Oh and Lord, thanks for a kitchen sink

Pastor's BlogNanci Ricks