Today marks Day 4 of a top secret 30-day experiment I am conducting… which I will
let you in on eventually. I just need to verify some data for about 26 more days.

In the meantime:

My nearly-3 year-old son pooped on the floor today – on my expensive living room carpet.
There are not many fine things in my home. I shop at my parent’s or in law’s for leftovers, so most of what we have is lovely, but second-hand. I have no complaints about that. I did indulge a few years ago—obviously before having children—on a nice rug. It was on sale, but still.

Today, my rug was pooped upon it, as if it wasn’t expensive, as if I didn’t save up and spend weeks shopping for the perfect one. As if it was a toilet.

(I know what you are thinking: Why haven’t you potty trained your nearly-3-year-old yet? That would obviously solve your issue… BECAUSE I HAVEN’T OKAY?)

It’s not like I am a stranger to poop. You might be familiar with the Turd Tornado of 2008 when another son of mine deposited his poop in over 25 locations in my house.  

Here is the main problem with today’s poop:
1)    My infant is recovering from major spinal cord surgery. He has to lay flat on his back for two weeks, which essentially means I thrust one leg on top of  him and make goo-goo-ga-ga noises for eight hours a day. We are both over it.

Because I can’t really leave my infant’s side, I had to keep the poop on the floor… for awhile. Obviously I did some quick poop-scooping… but to get down and dirty and really clean, that waited for hours.     

When my baby finally fell asleep on his back, I mad-dashed about the house, containing and sanitizing the situation. Just as I was throwing the garbage bags in the garage, my oldest son said, Mom, there’s orange juice on the floor.

Well, at least it’s orange juice this time. I can deal with orange juice.

 I just finished cleaning up the Orange juice. It was pee.

 I know. I know. I need to potty train.

There is a saying in Jewish wisdom: Keep two pieces of paper in your pockets at all times. On one write, ‘I am a speck of dust.’ On the other, ‘The world was created for me.’ The idea being that the divine and the ordinary are constantly merging.

There is no greater example of this than Motherhood. We devote ourselves daily to the divine tasks of sacrifice, humility, and disciple-making—all while having poop, spit up, or drool on our hands, or on our nice rugs.

I’ll be spending some time in the weeks to come blogging about motherhood, child-like contentment, and the lovely Psalm 131.

Psalm 131: Oh, Lord my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; 
I do not occupy myself with things too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

For today, know this:

Psalm 131, written by David, is part of a collection of fifteen songs called the Songs of Ascents. The Songs of Ascent were sung during annual festival processions as God’s people ascended to Jerusalem each year. Some bible scholars believe that each Song of Ascent is meant to mirror the fifteen steps to the Temple in Jerusalem. As each step was ascended another song of worship was lifted high to Yahweh. 

Above all else, Psalm 131 was David and his community’s song to God—a personal and worshipful song of struggle and prayer towards a quiet and contented soul.

If you are worn out today, I am praying this psalm over you—and over myself, as I begin to think through the reality of potty-training a toddler (and trying to praise God with a contented heart during the process.)

The infamous outhouse scene from Slumdog Millinaire

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