Of Peas & Perfection

This weekend I set up some discovery boxes for the kids.  They were full of split-peas and rainbow colored rice, along with various scooping and pouring tools.  I put them out on the toddler table and just waited on them to be found.

The kids were quite interested when they noticed the boxes and came closer to investigate...  sort of like what happens when I wander within sight of the sale aisle at Target.  They scooped and poured.  Traded boxes.  Pretended they were cooking.  Buried and uncovered.  F-U-N!

Addison was a hoot to watch.  She acted like she was hosting the "Moo Moo Cream Pie Cooking" show as she talked her way through every little action and ingredient.  Caden had a blast using our hand-vac to clean up random spills.  He has since been appointed Mommy's Sanitation Supervisor.

 But as with all good things, the fun had to come to an end.  Unfortunately, this one was abrupt.  The kids accidentally spilled the split-peas onto the carpet.  All.  Over.  The carpet.  Which wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't then walked directly into the mess as I was trying to sweep up.  Apparently, that was a really interesting feeling, having your feet covered in split-peas.  Let me set the scene for you...  I sweep, they walk.  I make them sit down, they start sweeping their feet clean...  Sending split-peas dancing all over the last of the still-clean kitchen floor.  I try to make them evacuate the area, they walk into the peas again.  Ug.  Discovery boxes were closed down and I spent some quality time with my dust pan.

I couldn't really blame them.  The kids are two.  So I decided to extend them some grace and give them another shot.  Later in the afternoon I let them find the boxes again.  This time they knew exactly how to fast-track the fun...  The peas were almost immediately spilled, on purpose.  The trekking through the mess commenced on cue.  And though I usually have a far less gracious response, this time I just had to... smile.

What I felt wasn't happiness.  My floor was a complete disaster, after all.  And my kids were repeatedly ignoring me.  It wasn't pride in my patience or accomplishment for my engaging activity.  And surprisingly, it wasn't frustration.  Even though my floor had just been vacuumed.   It was love.  The kind that makes you look past the temporary.  The kind that doesn't need anything in return.  The kind that just is.

That is the kind of love that God must have for me.  Times infinity.  Because aren't I just like the kids?  Always spilling my sins all over the place.  Taking God's plans and dumping them, in favor of my own ideas.  Constantly distracted by what's under foot.  Yet, still He loves me.  With a perfect, unfathomable love.  Not because of who I am or what I do, but in spite of those things.  He loves me, peas and all.  Because I am His.