Sweeping up the crumbs...

"Here's your sign."

"That was bright."

"You're so pretty." (Inside to FCB friends)

"That was smart."

"Genious!"

These witty snippets of sarcasm are commonly used when someone's proverbial light bulb just isn't getting enough juice. However, they can be (and sometimes are) used when that same light bulb comes on for someone who is surrounded by others who have long-before been enlightened. Such is the case for me today.

No, neither my wife nor my kids had to snap me into reality using one of these ever-so-gentle reminders of my hard time with getting it. It can be any number of things. I don't know why some things are difficult for me to get. I'm not the wittiest, funniest, or sharpest guy in any group and I'm okay with that. But I will tell you this - when I do finally get it, I GET IT.

So after I fed Leah tonight, I went back to clean her up and get her out of the high chair. Of course, half of her food was in her stomach and the other half was on the floor - that's her way of telling us that she's done. So as I grabbed the broom, frustrated at having to sweep (again) I started mumbling to myself. This is, as Teresa would tell you, one of my favorite pasttimes- mumbling, that is. I began to sweep. Audibly talking to my innocent one year old, I said, "Here I am sweeping the floor because it's what I do. It's what I do because throwing food on the floor is what you do." I was obligated to finish my poetic thought because it sounded so good in my head. So I finished it despite the interruption in my thinking at the half-way point.

That interruption was my get it moment. Sweeping the floor is what I do and that's not a bad thing. I do that, not only because Leah throws her food down there, though admittedly there would be much less to sweep if she didn't. But I do it because of who I am. I am a father. I'm a dad and dads clean up after daughters. Nothing hard about that. Millions of dads have come to that conclusion with much less than it has taken to convince me. The job doesn't end. Whether it's cleaning a mess on the floor or helping Leah with a "messy" problem with a friend (or, dare I say, a boy?!?...nah) later in life, that's what I do. And it's right for me to do it. It's my responsibility. It's my duty. It's my...privilege?

That's right. As I was sweeping up bits of chicken and cheese off the floor, I realized that I am privileged to sweep the floor of my daughter. A lot goes in to that. I have a daughter. I have a daughter who is developing appropriately to the point of feeding herself. I have a daughter who knows when she's had enough. I have the physical capacity to care for that daughter. I have a daughter who is dependent upon me and God has given me the grace to love her enough to clean up after her.

So, my thoughts, in no particular order:

1. I can show myself as a servant to my family so that they will hunger and thirst to be servants of God. Oh to be the floor sweeper at the table of the LORD.

2. What a tremendously, all-wise God I serve. And that is an understatement! He allows my daughter to be dependent upon me to clean up her messes in order to show me His own mercy in my life as He has "cleaned up" many messes that I've made.

3. What a gracious Teacher He is. I didn't get it in front of a bunch of highly esteemed colleagues or friends. I was in the presence of my youngest daughter who neither smirked at my idiocracy nor judged me for just now getting it. He could have taught this lesson in a much more humiliating fashion, but He chose my kitchen with no one else around.

So, the next time you're "doing what you do" remember - it is a privilege to serve and a privilege to be counted among those in whom a good work has begun.