Messy Maggie

I followed the trail of unwrapped sanitary napkins plastered to the carpet to find her. Where the path of neccesities ended, the trail of goldfish crackers began. At the end of the evidence, Maggie flashed me an innocent smile. She had just finished decorating the window pane with a bright blue marker. 

The five minutes I’d spent braiding Hannah’s hair for school was all the time her little sister needed to weave a complex path of destruction across the house. Tomorrow, Hannah will have to wear a hat. But today, I’ll just have to enjoy looking at the world beyond my window through a filter of blue (as my optimistic Lizzy just pointed out: Mom at least it’s your favorite color!).

Lately, I’m tempted to rename my one-year-old. Though she was dubbed Miracle Maggie at birth, she’s deserves the title Messy Maggie these days. As I grabbed the dustpan for the first (but not the last) time this morning, I wondered if God ever grows tired of my messes. 

 I don’t mean to leave disasters in my wake, but when I wander  from the watchful eyes of my Heavenly Father, create piles of problems.  Like an unsupervised toddler, the spirit of my flesh weaves a wearisome trail of brokenness —  crumbs of criticism, sticky pads of pride, and streaks of impatience. Surely the Lord tires of following behind me and picking up the pieces of His name that I’ve shredded unaware. The Bible is clear- my without-Jesus sinful self is one big MESS (Romans 3:23). But thankfully, I have a Savior who specializes in fixing messes (and mess-makers! Romans 2:25) if I let Him.

Messy Maggie won’t be a one-year-old forever. Like my other children who have long since abandoned the hobby of unloading cupboards and unwrapping Kotex, Maggie will develop new interests as she grows. Though it’s hard to imagine at the moment, Maggie will not forever need to live beneath my watchful eye. In fact, if Maggie is truly my last child, my dear dust pan and broom may one day have to find a new job or at least seek a transfer to the garage.

I, on the other hand, won’t naturally “grow-up” in Christ just because I add another numeral to my age.  I won’t abandon my bad habits of shredding feelings with unchecked verbage or unloading fleeting frustration on my family if I don’t choose to pursue righteousness. If I want to mature as a child of God, I must submit to my Father’s watchful eye. While my messy little girl will one day leave home and blaze a trail out of something other than goldfish crackers, I will one day leave this world and MOVE HOME for good.  When I do, I hope that what I leave behind is not a polk-a-dot path of messes, but a holy-spirit-constructed trail of love, mercy and faithfulness.

Today’s Treasure:  So clean house! Make a clean sweep of malice and pretense, envy and hurtful talk. You’ve had a taste of God. Now, like infants at the breast, drink deep of God’s pure kindness. Then you’ll grow up mature and whole in God. 2 Peter 2:1-3, The Message