But godliness with contentment is great gain.
1 Timothy 6:6
contented: happy and at ease
godly: reverence, respect
I got peed on again today. Little Larry peed the bed. My bed since his bed doesn’t have my sheets to soak, right? So, I was up multiple times last night with a coughing mini diva and a restless boy who culminated his performance with warm morning urine.
Like the phrase, “I got peed on again today.”
Let me ask you: what in the world does that have with godliness and contentment? How does one clean a pee covered boy, bed, and then yourself in a godly fashion? And how in tarnation does one do that contentedly? Anyone?
I’ll venture an answer.
You find the funny in it. You search out the good in it. You forgive the negligence of yourself or others. You actually look for a way to be content in that moment with a kind and gentle spirit. You choose to behave in a manner that is worthy of being called good and respectful.
Next time I want a kid I’m gonna get a chihuahua instead.
I was talking to my husband about the ordeal this morning. After I forgot to feed the minions breakfast he threw some cheerios at them and helped me change the linens. And we talked about how we might not miss that moment; but if we didn’t have those babies we’d long for the stories we have.
We talked about how he does things that just irritate the fire out of me. He doesn’t wash the dishes or fold the towels the way I am thoroughly convinced is the proper and only sane way possible. And I’ve grown to the point that if he washes the dishes I don’t say a word. And praise Jesus if he folds the towels in any way he sees fit! I don’t even refold them after him… anymore.
Because if God forbid anything were to ever happen to him: how I’d wish I would have just let him do things his way. How I’d miss the little things he does that drive me crazy.
So I’ll learn to be content with my choices and blessings thus far; and learn to use them as building blocks for the rest of my life. I’ll be content with the car that no longer has a working air conditioner. (It’s been the longest six days of my life.) I’ll be content to clean poop out of the bathtub because soon enough the minions won’t be little enough for me to bathe. I’ll be content to clean up spills and messes. I’ll find the joy in their drawings all over important documents and contracts. I’ll find joy and contentment because I’ll choose to look for joy and contentment.
No need to wait until you’re old to be lovable.
And for the godliness: I’ll choose to behave in a righteous and respectful way. Instead of berating the kid for peeing the bed for the tenth time this month I’ll remember he’s wet and did not do it on purpose. Instead of angrily changing clothes and casting dirty looks I’ll give grace and remember those little eyes that are constantly looking for their mama’s approval and acceptance. When the little miss mouths off and screams I’ll choose to remember how tired she is after school. And I’ll love on her instead of feeding into the tantrum. I’ll choose to behave in a way that is fitting of a virtuous woman.
Can I get a wit-ness?
It’s a choice. You get to choose how you respond to situations. You choose whether to gripe or rejoice. You choose how to look at your circumstances. What an awesome and terrifying responsibility. Can’t someone just tell me what to do? Better yet, can’t they just do it for me? Nope. That’s the privilege that comes with free will: we get to decide how we act and what to do with our emotions. Choose well.
So when I forget to feed my children cheerios because I’m running on minimal sleep, no food, and no coffee I will choose to forgive myself. And be happy that I have a husband who sends me to bed with no questions asked.
And I will be so grateful that I have a sense of humor that helps me find the funny in the midst of chocolate milk vomit spewing from my favorite boy and my mini diva telling me that I’m shaped like a loaf of bread.