Thursday, November 17, 2011

Dust…

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I cleaned my house today for the first time it what seemed like FOREVER.  You know, the good clean.  Scrubbing floors, wiping baseboards, cleaning toilets…

Fun.  Let us rejoice in all things, eh?

You can imagine my delight when I finished and my house smelled like I had chit chatted all morning with Mr. Clean and the Scrubbing Bubbles.  I looked around at my house like one of those cheesy cleaning commercials, just smiling at my productivity, when I noticed it. 

The sun shined through the window, and like a beacon, illuminated my hidden secret. 

Dust.  About an inch thick on the long neglected piano bench.  With a grr and grunt I got out the dust polish and sprayed away the mess. 

I don’t like it when things I think are taken of and hidden come into view.  They tend to reflect poorly upon me.  Like the dust on the piano bench, I would be very content to keep things hidden. 

I started thinking that my heart is a little  like that piano bench.  There are things in my heart that I dare not mention to anyone, hoping that if everything else is in place no one will notice some dust.  Still, as long as some things are dusty, there is cleaning that needs to be done. 

At night we say a prayer with E in German.  Translated part of it says “my heart is clean”.  I want my heart to be that way.  CLEAN.  Which means that maybe, just maybe I have some dusting to do.  Time to clean this old house.  Time to breathe in and let everything out, laying it down at the feet of someone bigger than me who can make everything spotless.   

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