Piles of Poop

Our backyard deck has become a bird potty.
The whole deck is speckled with white. Bird art?
Usually this is just a nasty nuisance but since birds don't care where they drop it and there's not much you can do about that, it's just something you live with.
But then there are bees.
Our backyard has also become a bee haven.
Since they don't hang around the deck too much, Lydia has been playing on the deck more than the yard because she's not too fond of bees.
With the bird poop, it adds a messy level of difficulty to the play.
Literally, she's playing on a poop deck.
We've tracked in our share of poop on the bottom of our shoe so I've been telling Lydia to be careful where she steps. She's pretty good at it most of the time.
But last night I told her to bring her toys in before it got dark.
I stood at the door and she went around dropping toys in a bucket to bring them inside.
I told her "Watch that big pile of poop." But for some reason her idea of watching out for it was different than mine. It was an extra large pile and it got her attention.
She inched closer and closer. She got as close as she could while trying to maintain obedience to my request. I could tell she was playing the "How close can I get to the flame without being burned?" game in her head. It was written all over her face and actions.
She'd go look at it, then pick up some more toys, go look, then pick up toys.
Then it happened.
She got too close.
From my position I could tell that it was an accident but she managed to take one misstep and plant her foot right smack on top of the poop.
As the poop squished between her toes she let out a scream and horror filled her face.
I knew she hadn't meant to do it. But she did.
Why? Because the pull of temptation had led her closer and closer until one small slip put her right where she wasn't supposed to be.
It wouldn't have happened if she'd have just stayed away. But she didn't.
Desire and temptation won.
She thought she could look and not touch.
But she couldn't.
She ended up not just touching it, but landing full force on it and getting very messy.

Sin is like that.
It tempts us.
It calls us.
It pulls us.
We can't resist.

We can be innocently going about things as normal but then we see something that looks enticing.
Something appealing or interesting.
And we have to look.
We hear a voice saying "Watch your step!" and we try to heed. But it's such a strong pull and we can be so weak.
And we inch closer.
We play the same mind games, "How close can I get to the fire?"
But just like Lydia, far too often we end up with our feet firmly planted in the middle of mess.
Oh, we didn't mean to. But it just sorta happened. And there we are.
If only we would have just stayed away instead of danced with the flame.
We don't think the fire can get us but eventually we let our guard down just enough. And in that moment, we slip.
The flame shots out  and we get scorched.
We get careless and forget to watch what we are doing or where we are going. Just for a second. But in that second, Satan pushes us in. And we find ourselves where we shouldn't be.
Sometimes we are even shocked we are there because after all, we were just looking!
How wise the voice that tells us to just stay completely away.

Last night, I picked up my messy, poop covered, crying little girl and took her to the hose.
I calmed her down and hosed her off.
Then, I made it a teachable moment.
We talked about temptation, sin and basically all I just wrote about.
I had no idea how much she comprehended but it was too good a lesson to miss.

This morning, while Lydia was playing I swept the kitchen floor.
It was filthy.
The result of playtime outside, dinner last night, breakfast this morning and high traffic.
(Sometimes I feel like that floor is always dirty and no matter how often I sweep I am always amazed at how much dirt there is!)
I had a nice mound of dirt all piled high. Lydia saw it and started inching closer.
Closer and closer she came.
I told her "Don't touch the pile."
She stopped at some invisible line she drew in her head for a bit. And then she leeeeaaannned her body closer. She stood up again and sorta circled the pile.
Then she stopped and looked at me.
"It's really hard not to, Mom." She said.
She stayed planted in one spot and just stared. But she didn't come closer.
Then she turned and walked away.
She came back a few minutes later when I had just finished sweeping the pile into the dustpan.
I deposited the dirt in it's new home and put the dustpan away.
As Lydia turned to go back to her play I heard her say, "Phew, I did it! I didn't touch it!"

There will be many piles of temptation in Lydia's life.
There are always going to be temptations in our life.

I pray that Lydia will be stronger and stronger to stay away and that there will be more "I did it!", victory over temptation moments, than "I got too close." moments.
I pray that lessons learned now will stay with her and help her in the future, like it did today.
But I know she'll slip. I know that all of us sometimes do.
Sometimes we'll get messy.
Praise the Lord that God is there to clean us up just like I was there with hose in hand for Lydia.
Praise the Lord for mercy. For forgiveness.
But Dear Lord, give us strength to not just dodge the piles of poop in our lives, barley missing them, but help us to stay far enough away that there is no danger of falling in and getting messy and hurt from the flame.


In the book "Victory Over The Darkness" by Neil T. Anderson, he gives an example of just that concept from a "Cathy" cartoon stip.

Frame 1: I will take a drive, but I won't go near the grocery store.
Frame 2: I will drive by the grocery store, but I will not go in.
Frame 3: I will go in the grocery store, but will not walk down the aisle where the candy is on sale.
Frame 4: I will look at the candy, but not pick it up.
Frame 5: I will pick it up, but not buy it.
Frame 6: I will buy it, but not open it.
Frame 7: Open it, but not smell it.
Frame 8: Smell it, but not taste it.
Frame 9: Taste it, but not eat it.
Frame 10: Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat!
Source- Victory Over The Darkness. Neil T. Anderson. Page 163