I looked at her and then at what I had asked her to do, and let's just say Momma wasn't too happy about this little situation we found ourselves in.
Comatosely unaware of my dissatisfaction, she sat contently playing her game while I stood before her fuming.
I'll leave the rest of the details out except to say that after much weeping and gnashing of teeth, the little iPod is now in Momma's possession and the job I asked her to do was done properly.
A couple of days later the youngest little blessing comes to me asking for said electronic device back, and I was quickly able to roll examples from my brain as to why she still could not have her electronic friend back into her sweet little hands.
After my list of examples, those sweet little hands flung around my waist, her chin lifted toward the ceiling, and she tried to break me with the most innocent repentant voice she could muster:
But I'm sorry, Mom!
Let's just say, Momma's ain't that easy.
Well, Brenna, if you ever want your iPod back, you had better learn to put that "sorry" into action!
And, yes, the iPod is still in my possession, tucked safely in one of my secret hiding places.
As soon as I told my daughter that she needed to put that sorry into action, I felt that Holy Spirit nudge and I had to ask myself a question or two.
Do I treat God the same way? Do I say I'm sorry, but never put sorry into action?
If I don't, I'm not really sorry then, am I?
What about you?