Jesus in the Mess, Cleaning Up the Mess
Olivia had made a mess, a really big mess, and instead of asking for help or alerting me to the problem, she was trying to handle it herself.
I entered the kitchen and found my daughter sitting on the floor, paper towels in hand, trying to clean up the white pasty mess while milk trickled off the island counter onto my cookbooks on the bookshelf below. Her weapons of mass destruction were milk and a box of biscuit mix. The entire kitchen was covered with splatters, and a three-foot slathering of goo was splayed across the floor.
Olivia was unable to take care of the mess herself, so I took over. I got my little bucket, some rags, hot water, my miracle …