It was the third spill of the day, and it wasn't even noon. I was so frustrated, and so ready to just scream or cry or just completely lose it. But she looked up with those big brown eyes and chirped, "That's okay, Mama!"
She was right. I didn't want to admit it, but she was. The spill was small, and even if it hadn't been... well, she's two. Two-year-olds are clumsy and uncoordinated and they spill things. She didn't spill the milk on purpose, and she certainly wasn't trying to make me do more work. So I fought back the tears, kissed her head, and wiped up the spill, begging her to be careful with her cup.
I mentioned the spill to Michael later, when he came home to eat lunch. And he said that yes, it was indeed okay. Even though it was the third spill of the day. And then, he said something profound.
"Honey, it's as if God has that phrase recorded on her little lips so you'll hear it all day long."
And I do hear it all day long. Spills, accidents, potty mishaps... it's all okay, Mama. Although I want to scream, "No! It's not okay!", she's right. And my husband is right - it's something I do need to hear. Often. When things seem to be falling apart, they're not, really. When things feel out of control, they're not; He is in control.
And when Phoebe brightly remarks, "That's okay, Mama!" it's as if I can hear Him whisper, "I'm making good from this, child." And He is.