This morning, we were 15 minutes late for our MOPS meeting because Monkey and I had a stand off over potty training. I had been prepping her all morning for a success by filling her belly with water, talking about our plan to go potty then go play with our friends, picking out a sticker, etc.

Well, 45 minutes before it was time to leave, I got her dressed and explained the game plan: We are going to finish our water, eat something, brush our teeth, go potty and leave.

Ready? BREAK!

We are running around as you could expect any mother and three year old to do when a time line is involved. Mommy got dressed. Monkey got dressed. Mommy brushed her teeth. Monkey brushed her teeth. Mommy went potty. Monkey… did not. She said she didn’t have to go. She said it’s not her fault and that she can’t.

It’s not Mommys first day on the job, so knowing that Monkey had three large glasses of water, Mommy pushed a little. “No problem. But we need to go before we leave so get ready.”


So, Mommy pushed a lot. “That’s fine if you don’t want to go potty. I will call your friends and their mommies and let them know we won’t be coming today. Since we cannot leave until you go potty.”


45 minutes later we are in the car, running 15 minutes late, and Monkey didn’t go potty before we left. Needless to say she went potty as soon as we got to the church, and again when her teacher asked her to. But if there is one thing I have learned from her is no matter how much I hurry, she may need me to wait.

God is using my sister-in-law to teach this lesson to many of us in the family. She had her first OB appointment last week at which point she learned she was not ten weeks along in her pregnancy, as she had thought. She was about six weeks. Therefore our due dates are within two days of each other. Just to be sure everything was okay, they had asked her to come in for another check up at the end of the month.

On Easter she started cramping and bleeding and she found out yesterday she is going to lose the baby. I just ache for her. My heart aches not only because our wounds are still fairly fresh, but it’s more than that. I want to hurry up and deal with everything so we can all begin to heal.

I want to hurry over with a bag of cookies and milk and hold her hand until she feels better. I want to do this, because that is what I would want. But she’s not me. She’s very private and she and her husband want to do this alone. In comes the waiting part.

I am waiting for the deep sigh that comes when the storm is over and the clean up begins. I am waiting to be able to take her a meal and really see how she is doing. I am waiting for the Lord to plant enough seeds for her to see His lap is there for her to crawl into and weep if she wants to.

So right now, in all of my rush, all I can do is wait.