what's yours is mine

You should know that I still go to the bathroom in front of my three-year old. Well, it's not really like, "let's-all-go-to-the-bathroom-together" kind of business; I just haven't gotten into the habit of closing the door.

Yet.

(It sounds very wonderful, this idea of having one room to myself for a few minutes. Alone.)

A few days ago, I sat down to commence my bathroom-business and Carter said, oh-so-bossily,

"Mommy, that's my toilet. You have to use yours. Go use your bathroom, 

not mine!!"


And we began a debate that went something like this:


"It's not really your bathroom, Carter. It belongs to Daddy and me."

"No, it's really mine! Look, there's my toothbrush and my shampoo and my stool (pronounced "stew-loo"). It's my stuff in my bathroom."

"Actually, it really isn't yours. Daddy and I bought this house. And we bought you the stuff here in your bathroom. We just share it with you because we love you. We lived in this house, using this bathroom long before you were ever here...

(And no, I don't expect a barely-three-year old to understand that whole concept.)

So, Carter, I'm going to use this toilet."

I wondered, then, how many times God has tried to have that conversation with me. When he's tried to say,  April, I want to use this thing and then I pout and tell the God who has existed before time, who gives me the very breath I breathe, who made the cotton grow that would become my clothes, who designed the cow whose cream would make for glorious creme brulee, who had the audacity to grant me free-will so I could one day mimic the reasoning of a selfish three-year old,

that it really. all. belongs. to. me.

I heard God laugh while I sat on that toilet. 

He didn't have to convict me. I needed no scripture to be brought to memory. It was one of those wait-till-you're-a-parent-and-you-get-a-glimpse-of-what-you've-put-me-through kind of moments come full circle. The truth is, it all belongs to him. The truth is, it's ridiculous for me to have the kind of grip I do on my money, on my free time, on my decisions, on my prerogative. The truth is, the God-head has been doing this Life thing way before I came into the picture. He's been exerting his will, accomplishing his holy plans long before my stubborn will was ever given the opportunity to participate.

So, yes, God, you may have my money, my priorities, my stubbornness, my talent, my influence and my life, and if need be,

you may use my toilet.