What's With the Name?

There is no joy in cleaning toilets. Absolutely. none. They are GROSS when you finally get around to cleaning them, and they are gross again the first time someone uses them. Absolutely gross. Like, we-use-flimsy-paper-seat-covers-so-our-dirty-bottoms-don't-even-touch-them gross. So what in the world does cleaning them have to do with joy?

When I had my first child, I was far from prepared to become a mother. I hadn't planned the timing of our daughter, and, at times, I felt that God had stolen from me a life of purpose in which I could do something that made a difference. I mean, I was gifted and called. I could do a lot more than just changing diapers and trying [desperately] to get this little bundle to sleep...definitely a lot more than something as mundane and pointless as, say, cleaning toilets.

But God, my oh so Faithful and Patient Redeemer, had a much bigger plan in mind than a fruitful season of ministry.

First, there was grace.
Overwhelming, pick-me-up-off-my-face, breath-again-fresh-air grace.
And then, when I least expected it...

Joy.
Deep, abundant, soul-quenching joy.

Slowly [painfully], but surely, He taught me how to find joy in the littlest things: endlessly rocking a crying baby, cleaning poop off a baby's bottom...and her clothes...and the floor, doing yet another load of laundry. The joy of cleaning toilets. And, when I'm patient and quiet enough to find it, it is oh, so sweet.

Now I'm a mommy of two, and I would not trade staying home with my babies for ANY job in the world. I love it. And while I have in no way even come close to unlocking the key to discovering joy in all these little things, I am learning, and I'd love you to join me on this journey.