Sometimes I can absorb only one command at a time myself. It is easy to track my wanderings by my messes. I get easily distracted by shiny things like the bear that stole the griddle still in the box off my brother's porch this week, as if it could fry up its own fish.
No wonder my oldest's first sentence was, "Made a mess!" It must be my parenting style to always notice that sort of thing. But that's the kind of prayer I have to offer God in confession often, "Made a mess."