I kneel here at midnight on my kitchen floor, the smell of Pinesol strong in my nostrils, hands dripping cleaner and the warm water. I think of floors I have washed, so many. I have good new mops and I don't need to kneel here, but I pray as I clean, wiping in small round circles. Two good reasons to be here on my knees. The dirt wipes away; cocoa stains, boot prints, pasta sauce, a muddy footprint, and the grime of many feet walking. Sin gets wiped away in confession; harsh words, uncompleted tasks, small untruths. Clean.
I tire of cleaning floors, but Jesus never tires of cleaning me, making me the pure vessel He desires.