Several years ago I woke to four smiling faces and a tray with several globs of food on a plate and a large glass of orange juice, which I don’t drink very often. The “food” was some combination of pancakes and eggs whipped up by my four girls who wanted to make me breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day.
I remember having to choke down a few bites to pretend it was wonderful. I’m not sure what I ate that day, but it didn’t taste too bad after I doused it with a little syrup. The look on my girls’ faces as they watched me eat was priceless, and I still treasure it in my heart to this day.
Later that morning, no one had thought to check the kitchen, and I walked into a huge mess of pans and dishes. My daughters had worked so hard at making the perfect breakfast that it seemed they used everything in the room. I sighed and pushed up my sleeves to begin cleaning up the mess.
Even though I had a dishwasher, I chose to do them all by hand that morning. Something about picking up each dish and pan made me smile as I imagined their small hands working so hard to prepare something special for me. The mess was not something I wanted to encounter, but there was no ill intent. They were so proud of what they had done and so was I.
I was about half-way through when I realized that this is precisely where I would want to be on this day. My family means everything to me, but it was more than that. I stood over my sink, and I realized that this must be how God feels when I try so hard and still make a mess. He’s always there to clean it up. So much of what I do as a mom is a mess, even though my intentions are so good. Whether I fail or succeed, though, I have a Heavenly Father who is proud of me and loves me no matter what the same way that I’m proud of my kids and love them always and forever.