I smile when I remember the spring day that my then five-year-old nephew and I were exploring in our backyard. Recent rain had connected the lawn to the adjacent marsh.I watched as my nephew was drawn to the deeper mud. His eyes lit up and his body was in a lunging posture.
With strong authority I told him that he did not have permission to run any further into the mud. The words had barely left my lips when he took off like an arrow released from a bow. He then slid, face down, along the slippery marsh mess. Then, with lightening speed, he jumped to his feet. He would have been unrecognizable as a silhouette of mud if I hadn’t heard this loud announcement: “I’m sure glad my Mom has Tide with bleach!”
My attempt at discipline had failed. His solution for our problem still makes me smile.
When I disobey, am I confident that the Lover of my Soul is more ready to clean me up than I am to ask?
Do I have an answer ready for anyone who asks for the hope that is within me?