Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Very Bad Day

Yesterday when my son woke me up at 5 am after I had only been asleep two hours, I knew the day was starting off badly. By the time I reached Little Man's mother's day out program I realized I had left both his and my lunch at home. As I walked into the office after scrambling together some leftovers from the day before I was bombarded with three "emergency" help tickets. I paused quickly to grab a cup of coffee to fend off the massive headache taking residence in my head. As I walked out of the break room I tripped, spilling the cup of coffee down the front of my white shirt. I dabbed frantically at the setting stain as I rushed down the stairs to take care of the first help ticket and as I reached the middle landing I tripped on my own ankle and fell against the wall. Stop laughing; I am not making this stuff up. An hour later I finally sat down for my lunch meeting when I got a call from the mother's day out program downstairs because my son was having what they called "a bad day". I rushed downstairs and bent down to pick up my little man before I realized his hands were covered in creamed squash which he subsequently rubbed onto both of my sleeves from shoulder to elbow. I took him upstairs to sit with me while I ate lunch only to discover I had left the lid off of my water bottle so that when I handed it to him to play with he dumped a large portion of it onto my lap. Knowing I only had about 30 minutes until I was scheduled to run a training session for some of our Elders, I went to the office of the minister with whom I would be doing the training to warn him of my current state of affairs. The look on his face when I walked in his office confirmed the severity of the mess that I had become and he mercifully loaned me a t-shirt to wear in favor of my food-covered smock.

I am sorry to say that it wasn't even 1:00pm and already the day had gone horribly wrong. As I tried desperately to keep a positive attitude despite the day's mishaps I found it amazing how something as simple as a clean shirt made me feel like I might be able to reclaim the day for something good. Looking back I am reminded of how wonderful it is to have a Savior who can wipe away all of the days mistakes. I come to him in a filthy, bloody, sin-covered shirt and he says, "Here, let me take that, here is a brand new one, no charge." Sing with me.

Are you washed in the blood, In the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb? Are your garments spotless? Are they white as snow? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Your thoughts?