I grabbed the broom to sweep the floor. Again.
My spirit was grumbling while my hands were busy sweeping. I was not a happy camper, nor did I have a joyful spirit. I was doing this simply because I had to. Because there were five little pairs of boots that kept bringing in mud and dirt.
Five happy children would go out to play and come tromping in with snow still clinging to their boots. Whisking off hats, gloves, snowpants, and scarves, they’d be on their merry way while my mud room looked like a blizzard had blown through. There were little puddles beginning to form where little bits of snow had begun melting. Soon there was nothing but baby puddles, dirt and pebbles left. Wintertime was quickly losing its joy for me as my broom pushed the water and dirt together into one big hunk of mud.
Then the Spirit whispered, “What if there would not be those five pairs of boots lined up over there?”
What if there were no slobbery kisses first thing in the morning or soft, chubby arms to go around my neck at night? No smudges on the window where the pudgy faces were pressed against the glass. Nobody to complain about who gets the biggest sandwich or who gets to sit next to Mom in church.
What if I didn’t have size 2T, 4T, 7T, and 12 pants to always get in the wrong piles? No balls to fall over in the hallway or hotwheel cars to get stuck under my oven. Nobody who needs an ear to listen to their memory verse or give a spelling test to.
What if there was no grumpy two-year-old with a snotty nose and hacking cough who needed Mama? No precious five-year-old in his froggy pajamas to ask his probing questions.
What if I had no children to bring in dandelions from the yard? No happy sounds coming from the sandbox or screeches from the pool.
No sounds at all. Just silence.
God, forgive me when I whine about this little pile of mud and dirt. It is nothing at all to the precious gifts you’ve given me. Those five little pairs of boots may bring in more snow to make more baby puddles.
And I’ll gladly sweep my floor.