As I mentioned last week, I’ll be going green over the next couple of weeks and recycling some of my posts while I’m working on my blog redesign. If you have not yet had the chance, please be sure to fill out my quick and simple survey to help make Pop Parables a better place. 
This post was originally a guest post on Mary Kathryn Tyson’s bloggity. It didn’t get much attention from the Pop Parables community, so I thought I would bring it over here this time. Enjoy!
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On the evening in question, everything was running quite smoothly.
I corralled my Little Bubba {15 months old} and proceeded to wrestle him into his church clothes.
Looks cute...but, you know what they say about looks
As per the usual custom, he wiggled, he waggled, he teetered, he tottered, he weebled, and he wobbled his little chubby self away from me as I lassoed him with a diaper, shirt, and overalls.
In what was likely his 573rd attempt to tear me down from my throne of WWF Champ of Baby Dressing, he was again defeated and Supermomma reigned supreme. {crowd goes wild with cheers and applause}
After ensuring that the other 2 boys were dressed, shoes on the right feet, and buckled into the car seats, hubs started up the Swagger Wagon and we were off like a pack of turtles to enjoy a time of worship and fellowship with our local church body.
Settling in to enjoy the sweet presence of God that flows so freely in a gathering of believers, I gave thanks for my healthy children, the freedom to openly worship the One True God, and a community of faith that emphasizes discipleship.
With those warm fuzzies in mind, I decided to have a sit down with Little Bubba because he’s getting about as heavy as 3 sacks of potatoes.
It was in that moment that I realized the unthinkable had happened.
Little Bubba’s {not so} little tooshie wasn’t quite as padded as it should be.
I checked to see if he had a side wedgie, ya know where the diaper has inevitably shifted to one side of the tooshie {yes, babies really DO get diaper wedgies}.
Yet, much to my horror I discovered Little Bubba did not have a side wedgie. Nor did he have a middle wedgie. There was no wedgie to be found, because he had a naked tooshie, devoid of the traditional covering known as the diaper.
This can’t be so. I know I put a diaper on him.
The gravity of the situation began to set in as I suddenly began to panic. I knew at any moment I could be covered in baby pee or worse yet baby poop.
This situation demanded swift action and…giggles.
Yes, I started giggling. This is my usual response in stressful situations, awkward situations, humorous situations, or when lifting heavy objects.
I tapped hubs on the shoulder, distracting him from his communion with the good Lord.
Bubba doesn’t have a diaper on. {I whispered}
What?!
He came to church diaperless! I gotta go get him decent before something really bad happens.
I hurried out of the sanctuary and into the Mom’s room, quickly attacking him with a diaper. Supermomma wins again!
I wiped the cheesy grin off my face and returned to worship, unscathed.
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Hubs questioned whether or not I had actually put a diaper on Little Bubba before leaving the house.
How is it possible that a baby is able to remove his diaper, especially when he’s wearing overalls?
I have no idea, but I promise you on my iced white chocolate mocha that he had a diaper on when I got him dressed. How dare you presume that I would fasten his overalls over a bare wee wee!
When we finally arrived home, there lay Exhibit A: a single diaper, partially fastened on the left side, lay in the middle of his bedroom floor.
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I consider the diaper the most important article in a baby’s wardrobe.
It’s a risky move to allow a baby to go commando, completely unprepared for the worst. And, while the sheer adrenaline rush of surviving such a feat is rewarding, it is not something I recommend.
I used to go about my business without the most important article: prayer.
But, I tried it once, on a whim, out of desperation.
I said a simple 10 second prayer, “God, I pray that your presence will be real in this situation. Bless our time together. Give me Your words to speak.”
And, it worked.
My relationships began to change.
There was more peace, more common ground, more vulnerability, more trust.
It’s not a prayer to secure a miracle, a lucky penny, or even a good parking spot.
It’s a prayer to change the posture of my heart from pride to humility. To turn the wheel over to God, and put myself in the back seat.
I simply offer up my heart to God, that He would give me the words to speak, the ears to hear and the heart to know Him more. And, most of all, that He would be present, in all of my interactions with others. That His righteousness would go before me, preparing my heart and the hearts of others for anything we might share with one another. That He would preside over our conversation, allowing it to be meaningful, edifying and most of all, glorifying to Him.
Now, it’s my usual custom to pray before…well…anything.
Coffee with a friend? Pray first.
Heated family discussion? Pray first.
Date night with the hubs? Pray first.
Writing a blog post? Pray first.
Every time I take those few moments to invite God into my relationships, He shows up.
And, it’s undeniable that it’s Him. In the words of the old hymn:
In the midst of His children the Lord said He would be.
It doesn’t take very many, it can be just two or three.
And I feel that same sweet spirit that I felt often times before.
Surely I can say I’ve been with the Lord.
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Next time you’re meeting with someone, don’t go commando. Invite God to take over. I promise, He’ll show up.
Just because I know you wanted another pic of Bubba
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