Deciding to paint your kiddos’ small bedroom with three little helpers hovering around you may not be the most brilliant of ideas.
But, I had to do something to keep my mind off of the fact that Joshua was out of town. Painting seemed like the perfect thing. (Plus, it was at the top of my “nesting” list.) My wonderful mom and sisters came over and helped paint our bedroom and after they left I started the kids’ room.
“Helping” is SO much fun!
Rose and Will begged to be able to “help” so I told them once I’d finished edging, they could have a turn rolling. After waiting eagerly for me to finish, they squeezed past the beds and dresser we’d crammed into the middle of the room, with Meg toddling in right behind them.
Will took a turn rolling on paint, and while I turned my back for a few moments, he refilled the roller all by himself. Paint oozed from the wall and, of course, Meg managed to get her fingers painted. I handed the roller to Rose and ran Meg to the bathroom sink.
I was in the middle of hurriedly washing turquoise paint off her fingers when I heard a plaintive call for help.
Immediately, worst case scenarios flooded my mind.
Paint running down the dresser and into all their clothes? Ruined carpet? A paint-covered child?
But the next instant another thought came to me. What really is the worst thing that could happen?
The worst thing that could happen would be me losing my tempter.
Rose’s “oh no!” face. [The sky blue in the background was one of many failed tries to get the color right.]
Sure, any of those paint scenarios would be a mini-catastrophe in my eyes, but God cares a whole lot more about my attitude than whether the paint job is perfect or my six-year-old spilled paint on the floor. My heart is even more important to Him than whether I chose the right shade of turquoise (a matter of such importance that it required four trips to Lowe’s.)
The last couple weeks have been trying. Joshua’s been working really long hours, had a horrible root canal, and then had to leave town for a week. I’ve been dealing with way more emotional meltdowns than normal and by 7:00 p.m. (when we were in the midst of painting) my patience was about as thin as parchment paper.
Thankfully, the paint catastrophe amounted to little more than a bit of paint dripped on the plastic drop cloth. The reminder was such a good one though.
So often (especially at the end of a busy day) I fail to look at life from an eternal perspective and sin in anger over things that seem terrible in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things aren’t that big a deal at all.