Warning: Best not to read this over lunch!
The Poop Art monster has been rearing its smelly head lately. A lot.
I find my beautiful girl, seemingly oblivious, covered in the brown stuff up to her eyelashes. Her bed, her walls, the radiator, the windows, the door, the ceiling – all victims of a sordid assault. It’s a scene I’ve seen a hundred times.
And each time, the anger blinds me, the grief strangles me, the fear and the exhaustion bring me to my knees. (Although I have to be careful exactly where my knees land.)
A dear friend was visiting on a day when the smelly stuff hit the fan. I was embarrassed and ashamed, I could not stand for her to see our mess. But if she was shocked and repulsed, she did not show it. Instead she bathed my giggling child, scrubbing her repeatedly, while I tried to clean the room, hot tears burning my eyes.
Then she went to the store and bought more cleaning supplies. She called another dear friend to come over and watch the girls. And for hours, we scoured and mopped and cleaned. It killed me to let them into the mess. I thought, My mess, my problem. Leave me alone to suffer. If you help me, I’ll be indebted and I don’t like that feeling…
But I needed help. They graciously gave it.
A couple days later, at 2 in the morning, it happens again. I go through the motions of changing the bedding, washing her, dressing her, taking her to school. The soiled room will have to wait. At school, I kneel in front of her as I do every day and I say “Bye” twenty times. And I try to get her to just look at me, just say “Bye.”
And I think that God is punishing me.
My parents jump in the car, drive long miles to my house. My father, strong and kind, grabs some gloves and a sponge and bucket, and for hours again, we clean. Mr. Steve stops by with towels and a special cleaner. It’s hard to give in to despair when upheld by such good family and friends.
The wallpaper is destroyed now; we’ll have to make plans to paint.
The next morning, in spite of all sorts of drastic measures to keep her in her clothes, the Poop Art monster strikes again. And again, my friends come. One to help me clean, one to watch the girls. We play music while we scrub. We laugh and talk. We even try to teach my girl that if she fingerpaints, she will have to be a part of the washing.
And the object lessons unfold…
How my Lord is so very merciful. He knows me, that I am filthy, but does He turn His back? Leave me alone? Give me the punishment I deserve? No, He comes near to us and faithfully makes us ”good as new” (as Hope would say).
Repeatedly I fall, my heart and soul smeared to the point of no return. Yet morning after morning, there are new mercies to “blot out my transgressions”, still more grace to cover my ”accidents.” No matter how many times my girl makes a mess, I love her fiercely and faithfully. I’ll scrub her and the walls over and over, and still love her more. The love of God is greater far.
I am indebted and I don’t like that feeling. But I need help — can’t clean me up on my own. I humbly accept the salvation He gives, let His great compassion soak up the stains, let His unfailing love wash over…
Ah, this is what it is to be made clean.
“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” Psalms 51:7
Amen
I don’t believe that love – either the great love of God or the humblest love of a friend – keeps account of what it gives or receives.
There can be no debt, my sweet friend.
And unlike any other resource we have, love’s supply can never be depleted. In fact, the great thing about love is that it actually GROWS when it is given away.
No debt, J. Just love.
I wish I could be there to offer more support, my friend. Go easy on yourself.
love.
[...] friend Jeneil wrote a heart wrenchingly beautiful post this morning. It’s a post about love. It’s about what it means to find the grace within [...]
Beautiful. Not a one of us is alone — but I’m so glad that your not-aloneness includes such wonderful people to help with the scrubbing.
This mess is so hard. It could wear us out if we tried it alone. Friends, family, faith and our love for our children are all needed. I hate asking for help too. I try to remind my self every time I feel indebted that those feelings are a result of my lack of self worth and what I really need to focus on are my feelings of gratitude. Hard stuff that.
Can I help?
Oh, my friend, I’m sorry that there has been SO much poo art in your house lately. I wish I could come help. Been there. How wonderful, though, to have friends & family who can help in those tough times!
Any time I find myself on my knees scrubbing the carpet (and wondering why on earth we have carpet?!?), I can’t help but ponder God’s great unending, amazing love and mercy for ME. I always learn a lesson about love while I scrub poo…
I’m with Jess … Screw the whole debt thing. It’s all about love.
OH the poop art!!! No debts just love and gratitude! You bring so much to so many especially your family.
Dev peed into the fridge yesterday. REALLY! Does that help?
xoxo
Jenn, oh no. But that’s hilarious!
Hey, my heart aches for you. I remember those days. You said something about the anger and I understand that. I would get so ANGRY when Daniel would smear. It is one of the things that would always make me angry and then I’d feel guilty about it. Unlike you I kept this smearing portion of our lives a secret. None of my friends even knew about it. I felt that people would be horrified. It seems so silly now looking back on it, but I didn’t share it, and I share everything! Maybe I would have been better off with the friends to help me.
This is just us, but(most of) Daniel’s smearing came just before he was “potty trained” (at age 6). I think it was his way of just trying to figure out the whole thing, what it was etc. It was the transition before using the bathroom. Maybe she is trying to figure something out too??? Hugs
I am so, so happy that you have friends to help you. I agree with Jess, there is no debt–just LOVE. You wouldn’t expect something in return if the roles were reversed. Always remember that. Hugs to you.
“Leave me alone to suffer. If you help me, I’ll be indebted and I don’t like that feeling…”
Thanking you for allowing others to incur debt that is only a microcosm of what Christ did for us.
‘Repeatedly I fall, my heart and soul smeared to the point of no return, I think. Yet morning after morning, there are new mercies to “blot out my transgressions”, still more grace to cover my ”accidents.” ‘
we don’t know each other…and that’s ok.
just sending some ((hugs)) your way.
we all fall. we all feel like our hearts and souls have been smeared to the point of no return. but…
LOVE. Love will keep us together!
and it seems as if you have a wonderful village of love, helping you up each day.
i’ve been reading some of your posts today and i must say, i’m inspired by your grace. thanks for sharing your beautiful life with us.
This may be my new favorite post of yours.
But the message is powerful.
I’m sorry you have to go through this.
Be Strong. I have had to clean up poop all over the place just once. I can’t imagine having to do it so much. I am glad that you have such great friends and family to help you.
God has given yousuch beautiful friends. He has placed his angels all around you and your family! Consider yourself blessed – not indebted.
And I always consider myself blessed after reading your beautiful posts. God has given you such a special gift. You can turn the poop monster into a lesson on God’s grace and salvation for us all. Thank you Jeneil.
I will continue to pray that God sends you exactly what you need every single day.
You are so strong and amazing. To turn something so emotionally (and physically draining) into something so special is an art, and a beautiful gift that you possess. ((((hugs))))
You are honoring friends and loved ones by letting them help you. By trusting them. No debt. No shame. Only love.
Love.
And BTW, I am so sorry it is so hard. You maneuver your life with such inspiring grace.
I feel the same – it is so hard to ask for help, and I feel indebted too, even though I know I shouldn’t. I need to remember that. Love to you, my friend.
Another beautiful post despite the poop! It sounds like you have wonderful friends who want to help. Let them!
I feel your pain–we too have lived through the poop disasters. They absolutely suck. I spent a good year carpet cleaning my son’s room repeatedly with the industrial Oreck before coming to the realization that a wood floor is so much easier to clean. I think my greatest moments of anger and despair came during the clean up process. If my son ever becomes verbal I hope that his first words are not the ones he heard me screaming as I cleaned…With time however his poop smearing/decorating has become few and far between (and I know I jinx myself as I write). We put a bedside commode in his bedroom and he now will make his deposits in that. In fact, he has recently started taking his bucket to the bathroom, stark naked, to clean up the goods. He smiles proudly when I catch him in the act. Hang in there…
Hello, I have not commented here before but I often read your posts. I am very moved by this post. Thank you for all you share, it is so inspiring and humbling. Our family’s journey with autism is very different to yours. I have had many people say to me ‘I don’t know how you do it’ in regards to my son. I only every have one answer. Love. You DO learn so much about love when it is all you have to get you through. The love for your child, the love of those around you. Your anger is so understandable, and no, it isn’t something to feel guilty about, anger at the mess is anger at the unfairness of it all. It IS so unfair. Thank you again.
I can empathize with your situation. It’s not fun. It’s a good thing we parents (MOST of us, anyway) do not have a sensitive gag relfex…I hope writing about it has helped you share the burden a little smidgen…
Lindsey Petersen
http://5kidswdisabilities.wordpress.com
[...] light of my last blog you can understand why I’m in total [...]
Once again, a great object lesson and reminder of our own sinfulness and God’s great mercy and love.
This really sucks that you have to clean up poop so many times a day. All I do is talk about poop all day AND hear threats that he will touch it, eat it, and wear it. But you are living it.
I want to pour compassion on you, though, not scrub you with bleach.
Be kind to yourself. You are not being punished.
It’s messy. It’s disgusting. But maybe it’s art? Would you feel comfortable giving her a substitute to keep in her room? Shaving cream? Playdoh?
xo
My little sis used to do that when she was a toddler. I wonder what it is about little kids that makes them think, “Hey, this brown stuff coming out of my butt would look great on the walls!”
So elegantly put. God deals with our stinky messes constantly and never leaves us in our filth, but showers us in loving kindness and tender mercies.
I so wish I was closer to help. My heart and prayers are with you.
Thank you again, for sharing so openly. You help me become a better mother. You help me to see things in a totally different perspective and I am indebted to you.
Love you bunches and am prayer your strength as well as Brandon’s.
Christ in you is AMAZING!!!
I am so moved by this post, because (as you read on My Planet) I too battle the poop monster that takes the form of my 14 1/2 year old daughter
many times a week. I’ve been scrubbing poop for over a decade and it doesn’t seem to get better with age… because she ages in years, but she stays innocent and child-like in spirit 
.
While my post vented angrily, yours had meaning. it made me weep (which happens EVERY time I read your amazing writing) and it made me ache. Because you made sense of this… you make sense of everything… and your faith is so strong where mine is so confused.
I also ached, not because of our poop-cleaning lives, but because I feel so alone with it. I clean alone, and I’m in my mess alone. I tell vent to others about it, but friends and family like those you are blessed with have not landed in my life. They are there in word, but not action
….Or, perhaps, I don’t let them in as I should. So, I felt… not jealous reading your post but… but lonley. And yet, not alone, because someone else out there across the continent scrubs the pooh 
. Someone else lives it. Gets it 
Can I ever say enough how much I adore your blog???!!!?
My little boy who is also autistic had the same ‘ tendencies ‘ when he was small. Once when I was 9 months pregnant, my mother who was visiting for the birth of my fourth child told me ‘ Don’t go upstairs….’. I did, and there it was….all over the floor, and my 1 1/2 year old daughter sitting playing with it.
I almost fainted. I took my then 4 year old son, and my toddler to the bathroom, while my mom cleaned up. Later she said ‘ Maybe you shouldn’t tell your husband about it….’.
I waited three years to tell him of the incident…