Posted with permission from anonymous contributor. God bless!
“Spiderman! Hurry! I need your help. There are radioactive blobs stuck to the kitchen floor, and if they aren’t removed right away, our entire family could be destroyed!” If there is one thing my five-year-old superhero responds to with enthusiasm, it’s being given a “mission.”
He chooses his weapons from our under-the-sink arsenal: a green sponge and a pink plastic scrubber. Last time, it was a pair of makeshift scrub brush “skates” fastened onto his bare feet with shoelaces. Soon he is busy disarming bombs, saving the household from certain death. Petrified Cheerios are soaked and pried from their linoleum minefield; dangerous, sticky Kook-Aid spots are de-activated. Sugary deposits under the table are safely neutralized with our top-secret formula (dare I tell you?—a mixture of warm water and dishwashing liquid!).
Even Spidey’s baby brother has joined in the campaign against evil, as he takes up his own weapon (a wet rag) against the highly volatile, stubborn wall splatters that surround his high chair.
In the next room, I blithely wield my feather duster, smug and satisfied, secretly patting myself on the back for my ingenious maneuvering of these sometimes-unruly little ones. “How clever I am,” I think to myself. “I’ve made it all into a game. They’re having the time of their lives, and I’m getting my floors scrubbed!”
Meanwhile up in Heaven, an angel turns to God with an amused face. “How did You manage to get her to do Your will so easily? Look at her: changing diapers, picking up dirty socks…the same chores that so many moms consider drudgery. Yet there she is, grinning and humming to herself as if she couldn’t be happier! How do You do it?”
“It was nothing,” the Lord smiles fondly. “After all, it’s not hard to motivate someone who has a ‘mission in life.'”