The Patience of a Mother-challenged with Juice

I would say that today started out well enough, up until the time that I woke up! My run didn't go so well to begin with and I was a little hassled by the fact that the technical difficulties at the Everett Events Center continued to challenge my presale optimism for Dora and Diego tickets. Then, after I was finally able to connect with a human body and talk to them by phone to straighten everything out, Thomas decides he wants to guzzle from the orange juice container. I should have realized that something was amiss by the fact that I was actually able to hold a rational conversation while on the phone. I should have known that my normally energetic toddler would not be this quiet under normal situations. It was, though, not until I got off my 2 minute phone call, that I realized that my brown leather couch was now splashed with a nice coating of....orange juice!

The empty 1/2 gallon container sitting nozzle down did not initially register on my out-of-control meter. And as I continued to stare at the increasing wetness surrounding my couch, I couldn't quite understand what was staring me straight in the face. My son had dumped an entire 1/2 gallon of orange juice on our couch, much of which was now totally lost to the innards of the frame and cushions, and what was seeping through was puddling under the couch. "Thomas, what have you done?" I called, and from his room I could hear him begin to cry. "That's just the beginning of your crying, buddy," I thought, as I continued to experience the most amazing run of emotions I think I've ever had at one time. I'll admit, it was the first time when I really had to stop and assess how I should react to the situation, even as my anger boiled over. It's our first piece of nice furniture as a family, something we can't just easily replace when needed, something we've really tried to take care of and keep nice. And then I thought of how I was going to tell John. It was an awful feeling. I dealt with Thomas by pulling him from his room and bringing him back to the scene of the crime, although I'm sure he was just guzzling the juice and lost his grip on the heavy carton. I talked to him, scolded him and put him in his crib to cry it out as I cleaned up the mess. A mess I had little ability to clean up, other than to mop up the juice as it continued to drain from the seams.

And then I was reminded of the devotional I'd read last night entitled "Power of Patience". I remembered reading "Those with good sense are slow to anger, and it is their glory to overlook an offense." Proverbs 19:11 NRSV. It gave me very little comfort until later, after the storm had passed, and I had time to ponder it all. I also reread again the comment, "Remember, when the opportunity arises to be patient with your child, consider how you would want God to respond to you in a similar circumstance." How many times do I mess up, and God must roll through the same feelings as I did this morning, not with Thomas, but with me? And now as a mother, that verse and this comment mean so much more to me. How could I have known that just the next morning this devotional would be so relevant.