At least two or three times each week, I find myself fussing at Ella Kate for not rinsing her toothpaste out of the sink. I’ve said it countless times, yet somehow, she never remembers.
In the back of my mind, I know she isn’t doing it on purpose. She isn’t defying me or being deliberately careless. She’s seven, and sometimes things just slip her mind. Still, I bring it up because I feel it’s part of my job as a parent—to guide her, to teach her responsibility in small ways so she’s ready for the bigger challenges life will inevitably bring.
But today, I decided to let it go. Today, I rinsed the sink myself—and I didn’t say a word. I rinsed it with a sense of gratitude, with joy in my heart, simply because I could.
All weekend, my thoughts have been with Noah, the little boy hit by a car while trick-or-treating. Just two short days ago, he was dressed in his costume, laughing and running with friends, enjoying the magic of Halloween. And now, today, he is fighting for his life.
Maybe his mom rinsed his toothpaste out of the sink Friday morning. But today, I imagine her holding him, praying with every ounce of her being for any sign of life, dreading the thought of saying goodbye. Today, she would give anything for him to sit up, walk to the bathroom, brush his teeth—and forget to rinse the sink.
So today, I rinsed that toothpaste with a thankful heart, because part of my heart is with Noah and his mom. I don’t know them, and I may never meet them, but I understand a mother’s heart. I cannot imagine the fear, the pain, and the hope she holds in her arms right now, praying for a miracle.
Today, the toothpaste isn’t the point. The point is that my child is here with me, alive, healthy, and moving through an ordinary, precious, blessed day. Today, I am grateful to God for the mundane moments, for the little annoyances, for the ordinary beauty of life.
And as I go about my day, I continue to lift prayers for Noah and his family, hoping for comfort, hope, and healing in the midst of this unimaginable moment.
