What the Commode Said

It came to me in the space between our commode and bathtub, which is about six inches in older, smaller homes like ours. The area rug had been removed to expose the tile floor for its weekly scrubdown. (If you're thinking What type of slovenly person only does this weekly, stop reading here because you're way beyond my pay grade.)

After gathering a plethora of multi-colored, pungent toxins, with my right hand bracing the tub's edge and the left bracing the porcelain throne, I took the knee and began scrubbing, rinsing, re-scrubbing and rinsing again over the pop and crackle of patellas, rubellas, nutellas and other assorted bones.

Soon my forehead was in this tight spot, around three inches from the floor. Geez, it probably looks like I'm praying down here or something. I shook off the thought and craned my neck to inspect the underside of the bowl.

Wait a minute...really? Wasn't I just in a board meeting a couple of weeks ago, spouting off a super-important report in front of super-important people?

Maybe it was the fumes, but I swear that's when the bowl spoke. It said:

Yes, you were in a board meeting. You were all dressed up, and even wore make-up that day, if I remember correctly.

Well, yes that's exactly what I was getting at. I mean --

The commode interrupted: You say you believe in Jesus right?

Are you kidding me? You're bringing up Jesus at a time like this? I'm doing the crappiest job in this house, and you're bringing up...HIM? It's not enough that I feel like the maid  or a servant right now...

Exactly. You believe He was the ultimate servant...right?

I seriously am hating this toilet right now. Yes.

Well, what do servants do? The easy stuff, or the stuff the masters don't want to do?

Rolling my eyes. The stuff no one wants to do.

Now, you got it. Remember when He washed --

My turn to interrupt Yeah, I know: He washed His disciples' stinky feet.

And you want to be like Him?

Yeah. I get your point. Now shut up so I finish up.

Um...if I'm remembering correctly, He did it gladly.

Step at a time, Tidy Bowl, step at a time....

It wasn't the fumes, and it wasn't the toilet. Sometimes God just uses the mundane stuff of life and positions -- in my case a literal position -- to remind us of what He expects us to do for others and the messy-ness involved with those expectations, physical and otherwise...and the spirit in which we're supposed to do it.

Message heard.

But for the record, I'll be transferring bathroom cleaning duty to Jamie and/or Georgia...wouldn't want them to miss those rich reminders which sometimes can only be heard in the space of six inches.