Poopy Finger meet Spiritual Spice.

Okay. My friends in College called me Spiritual Spice cause I would take a random moment and turn it into something really spiritual...especially after I read those Left Behind Books. Oh man, I think Jen Bunch coined the phrase (which wasn't necessarily meant as a compliment if I recall)...but it stuck.

I say all that, cause I am totally being spiritual spice right now and giving you 2 Jesus/Spiritual blogs in one day. You are welcome.

So tonight we had a case of the Poopy Finger.

Let me explain.

Curtis is gone. I'm getting the girls ready for bed. And I'm snuggled up with Lexi when I begin to notice that Haley is taking a long time in the bathroom. After questioning what she was doing, she finished up her "business" and washed her hands several times. As I was tucking her in, she told me her thumb smelled like poop. Lovely.

I smelled it. It did have a faint poopy smell. But you gotta know, my daughter has my husband's nose who has HIS Mother's nose...which has a VERY KEEN SENSE OF SMELL. Like a superhuman sense. Like if they were on HEROES, their gift would be in smelling. So it was apparently piercing her nasal cavity with it's horrid smell.

But I digress.

I told her to tuck it under her pillow or keep it away from her nose. This apparently did not work since I started to hear sobbing coming from her room.

Cue door.

Haley comes up devastated about the poopy finger. "It smells. It is so stinky. Why oh Why is this happening to me? If your finger smelled like this, you would cry too....etc, etc."

I pulled her out of Lexi's room so she wouldn't keep her awake. And this upset her so much, she calmed down and decided she would be okay. She promises me she will go to sleep...that it isn't bothering her anymore. So we say goodnight again. And I leave.

Cue door.

"Mom, it is starting all over again. It really smells."

Cue Hysterical Sobbing.

This goes on for 40 minutes. I can't calm her down. We wash it. We purell it. We call daddy. We pray. We try it all.

I finally put her in my bed to keep her away from Lexi who is trying to sleep. And she goes all out crazy. Like lock you up crazy. And I walked away. I went on the couch and just started to breathe.

A few minutes later, she came out and said "It doesn't smell anymore." I said, "Did you wash it again?" "No, I didn't. Just smell." And as I grab her hand, water is dripping off of it. "Wait, I thought you didn't wash your hand?" I ask. "I didn't! " She says. And then I just looked at her and said, "So now you are lying?" "Go to bed Haley". (Sidebar... there is NOTHING...and I mean NOTHING I loathe more than lying). I was so sad.

She leaves.

Then returns...sobbing. "I'm so sorry Mommy... I'm so so so so so so so so sorry. I feel so bad. I lied. I lied about the poop (how it got on her finger). I lied about sleeping. I lied about washing my hands. I'm so sooooooo sorry. I feel so bad. I feel so bad."

And then we just held each other.

I apologized for losing my temper with her. And then I said, "Let's go snuggle together and talk about this..."

She started telling me a story about her preschool teach at church (Cindy R) who lied when she was a little girl...and as that story was revealed, I realized she understood how wrong it was to lie. She knew what she had done. She had been thinking about it.

And curled up in my bed, with my broken 5 year old daughter, I could not help but feel the emotions of how God must feel when we come to him. When we confess our sin. When we ask forgiveness. When we admit our wrongs. When we reach out for him to hold us.

And while I held her in my arms, I could imagine how He must feel holding on to us. Wiping our tears away. Comforting our hurts. Embracing us with His grace. Thankful we asked for forgiveness. Wanting the best for us. Ready to give us a fresh start.

Haley and I had a bit of a rough hour or two tonight...but I feel like I've given God a rough lifetime or two... And yet his arms are still reaching out...still ready to hold me...still ready to wipe away my tears...still ready to offer me grace.

So I guess I'm thankful for the poopy finger that reminded me of all that.