Ok, That Smell Was Me.

I was five years old and probably socially awkward even for that age.

And I had crapped my pants.

In kindergarten, just before taking the bus home, I messed my britches. Sounds horrifying and disgusting, I know, but it happened and I think it’s time we all talked about it.

I don’t remember the incident itself. I just remember the bus ride home. I must have known something was terribly wrong because I sat in the very front seat and anxiously awaited the moment when my house would appear through the windshield.

Five Years Old. Brother Lee singing back up.

The problem, however, was that all the other kids on the bus still had noses. And it was a big problem. It became an even bigger problem when one particularly large nine-year-old used his olfactory gift to locate me and call me out. “It’s HIM”, he announced, with his finger in my face.

Here is where I learned about a certain kind of love. I learned about self-sacrifice and leadership. I learned about protecting the weak, about doing what is right despite the difficulty that comes with it. I learned what it is to take care of people.

My much-older-than-me neighbor Matt interrupted the (correct) accusation. He had journeyed all the way from the coolest section of the back of the bus down to where I nervously sat. Matt dismissed the Bully then said something amazing: “It’s just that stinky car in front of us, right buddy?” Then he sat with me for the rest of the ride, the whole bus having accepted his theory. Of course!, I thought, the car in front of us stinks like a five year old with bowel control issues!

Yes, Matt. Thank you. It was that car. Yes.

This is burned into my memory. I needed so desperately for someone else, someone bigger and smarter than I, to have more courage than I had at that point.

I am so grateful that I had to go through this. I am so grateful for the times in my life when someone else took care of me. It is because of times like this that I am prepared to love on people when it is messy and uncomfortable. And that’s usually when love is needed the most.

I knew then what Matt had done for me. More importantly, going through that ordeal had given me a frame of reference which allowed me to begin to comprehend what God had done for me. There is a huge difference, but still, I was five. This taste of social rescue gave me the smallest glimpse into the eternal rescue I got with God’s sacrifice of his Son.

What about you? Have you been rescued from a totally desperate situation? Is it ever OK to blog about poop?


17 comments

  1. Pingback: Top Seven of 2011 | CHADWICKFLOYD

  2. Blogging about poop is always ok.

    What a good friend. Do you still keep in contact? You should stick up for him if he ever poops his pants.

    puepty puepty pannnnts!!!

  3. Man, that picture takes me back! I don’t think I remember this story, but I’m glad to have been a part of a good memory. I’m sure like you probably have plenty of other memories of me and Will to offset the good ones :)

  4. First time I remember pooping my pants was in second grade. We were on a field trip, and we were all paraded into the bathroom at the intermission of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. The teacher then told us that we were not even allowed to ASK her to go to the bathroom after that. So I didn’t. Pooped during the music. Rode the bus back with the other second-graders, crying. Mom was promptly called. I was sent to the bathroom, and Mom met me there. I love my mom. I was so upset that she went ahead and took me home early.

    The last time I remember pooping my pants was last year when I couldn’t make it from the car to the bathroom. Ugh.

    • And Laura … wasn’t there a time in between when you were sitting on Chad’s lap? I wasn’t a witness to this event, but I sure heard about it.

  5. Um…. I keep hitting “publish” by accident. Anyhow- I was glad she let me go clean up, but furious that she wouldn’t just show compassion and let me go take a dang pee in the first place.

  6. Haha. Good story. I never heard this one. Good ol’ Matt. I guess the metaphor would make more since to me if Matt crapped in your pants to later save you from the horror that he caused.. Why not just leave your pants clean from the beginning and skip the embarrassment? [ or the torture display ]

    I actually had simethIng quite similar happen to me. I peed my pants in first grade at lunch time. The stupid cafeteria lady wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom, and she was pretty dang ugly about it, or maybe that’s just how i remember it because she caused me to pee my pants. When the kids around me noticed and very promptly made fun, she saw and sent me to get cleaned up.

      • My first grade teacher did the same thing! She refused to let me go to the bathroom and I ended up peeing all over myself and! then! I had to walk all the way home from school in pee-soaked jeans and everyone in the whole neighborhood saw it!

    • Raising my — I’m in the 1st grade club too. When I told the teacher, and I started to say I went #2, but stopped mid-word because I didn’t think she would know what that meant. I used the family word “grunt” instead — looking back, I can see why she smiled. I don’t remember the reason I had this accident. We were in a trailer class with only one bathroom, so that was the likely cause.

  7. I so love the Goodwins for playing such an important role in my life and the lives of my children. I still remember you and your brother acting out “Arise My Love” on the steps in our foyer. Little did I realize just how deep their influence was on you. I don’t think I knew about this incident. Did I? To me this is proof that God specifically places people in our lives. I am thankful that they allowed themselves to be used by God and pray that I am just as open and that God makes a difference through me and mine in the same way.


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