The Pee-Stained Gospel

Wednesday was a disaster.

Two kids potty training and another learning to use underwear at night meant three pee-soaked beds and one poop-on-the-floor situation before 8 a.m. Our two-month-old was in full cluster-feed mode, my five-year-old was bored and bouncing off the walls after having been cooped up all week, and no one—especially not my wife and I—was sleeping well. With four kids, I “work” from home on the best days, but there wasn’t a moment to breathe, let alone think now. By dinner, I was emotionally frayed and spiritually empty.

Thursday didn’t start any better.

Our middle son had graduated to underwear and immediately pooped in it and his bed overnight. Damage control took nearly an hour and involved a full room sanitization. Breakfast followed—if you can call a carpeted floor covered in apple sauce, oatmeal and yogurt splatters “breakfast.” I secretly fumed as I stayed behind to clean up while sending the kids upstairs to my wife.

Alone at last, I turned on the vacuum.

And that’s when God spoke.

The vacuum was humming, and suddenly—above the chaos in my head—I heard Him:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit. This week is a blessing.”

It didn’t feel like a blessing. It felt like slow emotional erosion. But God wasn’t asking me to feel it. He was asking me to see it.