Tonight I sang loud and off-key to God. There may have been some dancing around too. One of my children eyed me with a bit of alarm. Notable only because you would think they all would.
I also washed my purse today.
Not seeing the connection? Well, first let me explain that I am not a Gucci/baby Louie gal. My purses are cheap, washable, frequently seconded to me.
They are the receptacles of diapers (new), hair bands, gum (also new), keys, money, action figures, snacks, beverages, electronics, random papers.
Crumbs, a lot of crumbs…
I have been feeling itchy because I knew that my current purse avatar was the victim of a public bathroom floor incident that I will not shock you by explaining.
Just trust me: unhygienic.
So I feel good. Brownie crumbs evacuated, wallet transplanted. Purse clicking noisily in a midnight wash.
I am aware that the God I trust and love is holy. Really clean.
I have a few kids who are well versed in superhero lore. So I was thinking about how a good comic book superhero needs an Achilles heel. And that led to thoughts of the only real superhero.
No Achilles heel–wait! There is a weakness. Not in him, us. We are his weakness. We are his mortal heel.
And he lets himself bleed out in holiness to bath us in his eternity.
That is clean. That is holy.
So I worship–messy and loud. Because he has rescued me. Once and for all eternity.