No 'Search & Rescue' Members In This House

My boys can't find the mayo jar in the fridge, so the chances of them finding a small child in the 100 Acre Wood is slim to none. So, yep, marking that career off their list. They could, however, be Dog Trainers.  They've trained me well.  If I say, "Clean your room."  They know that if they pick up a sock...play XBox....put their pillow on the bed....shoot a nerf gun.....open the closet door....I'm going to march in, scream, "Forget it! Go outside!" and then clean the room for them.

Training is in their blood.

They're really, really good.

As infants, they would whine and I'd drop everything to come to them. No words necessary.

As toddlers, they could bust out a good cry and I'd scoop them up to the Nursery to avoid disturbing the congregation. Only problem was, they were smiling before I made it out the back door.

They've got this down.

So, today, as evidence proved a serious rubber band war goes on in my absence, I thought of our cleaning routine.  I tell them what to do. They do it. Next time. I tell them what to do. They do it.  When will they catch on for themselves? When will they notice the sock in the floor, the paper on the desk, the pizza under the bed?  When will they take the gumption to clean something because they want it clean?

I know the day will come. I saw it in my oldest son. His room was only clean after I'd made a visit in there and then suddenly, he would be vacuuming on his own time.  It takes a little bit of maturing and a little bit of getting sick of dirt. And before you know it- you find a  good guy where there was a grimy kid.

I think about their souls.  They read their Bible when I remind them...they pray with us because we always pray at meals, church time, bedtime, in crisis....they go to church because we load them up and go....they abstain from things because we don't allow them...they partake because we lead them.  When will they take the initiative on their own?  Have I stunted their spiritual cleaning by doing it all for them?

I pray not.

I pray I'm leading by example.  I mop with Pine Sol because I was taught. I wash with Dawn because I've seen it done.  I wash with Tide because Mom did.  I know bleach will whiten because Maw Maw said it would.  I find myself tapping my broom the way my Grandmother did.  But it in all, I've found what works. I've what doesn't...and I've made my own 'brand'.

I hear myself praying, and it is the voice of others' in my ears.  I raise my hands and I catch a glimpse of loved ones gone.  I know the truth is found in the Bible- because my Great Grandfather found it there.  Church is a comfort because my family has found it to be so.  The way I live, the standards I follow, the joy I feel in my soul....it is not done for me, as a Mother makes the bed for her child. It is buried deep, grown in a well-toiled heart of an honest child.  I know my convictions are true.  I pray that in spite of all the ways I pamper my boys, they will love the cleanliness of a Christian life and pursue their own path.  A path of Godliness and Holiness knowing that while they may have seen their Dad and I live it- they must embrace it themselves and become who God wants them to be. Live how God calls them to live. And work for God like nobody's business.

Who knows, with the amount of 'training' they have under their belts- they just might be the next greatest leaders of our time.

Sweeping and praying,
Sondra