"OK, sweetie, we'll be right here when you get back."
Three-year-old Erin made her way to the bathroom while her brother Craig and I continued a wicked game of PreSkool pool. Eventually I became aware of a little voice wafting its way up the stairs.
"Miss Kee-um!, Miss Kee-um!"
Assuming Erin needed help completing the job she'd left to do, I went to the bathroom door and peaked in. Erin, who is no bigger than a minute, was sitting on the outer edge of the big people's toilet, with plenty of room to spare. Her little bottom hung balanced precariously on the front rim, and her chin was resting in her hands, with her elbows on her knees. It was quite a sight. I opened the door a bit wider.
"What do you need, hon?"
"Will you sing to me?"
"Well, uh, sure. What would you like to hear?"
"Chuhch sawngs," she replied.
"Ah--church songs! OK, Erin. Church songs it is." So there we were: a single adult woman singing "Jesus Loves Me" to a constipated three year old.
Several songs later, the task was completed and Erin ran up the stairs, totally unaware of the lesson she’d taught me: If you're going to be stuck for awhile in unpleasant circumstances, you might as well enjoy some tunes!
Or as Paul the prisoner wrote: "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" (Philippians 4:4).