Clean Hands, Clean Hearts

Today I cleaned.  It's not so bad, but some people will differ.

I wonder if their is any skill involved with cleaning?  I guess I could make it a profession, some people do it.  Maybe that should be my major...

Among cleaning I also did laundry.  I know, the multi-tasker at heart.  There is a good thing about laundry.  When it's done, it's clean.  But when you clean a desk, it could still be dirty.

When I think about it, when you wash clothes, it goes through torture.  First it drowns in a waterfall of liquid and then chemically combines with detergent to pulverize the dirt that has woven itself into the fabric.  The washer then spins and spins until clothes aren't sure which way is up.  How cruel we are.

When you clean something, you just wipe it once so it likes a little bump in the road of pain.   You don't go in and clean it like a washer does.  I find it strange.

I look at myself I wonder how I am cleaning myself.  

Do I go through torture or a small bump?

Do I just wipe a cloth and call it clean? 

Do I torture myself?

Do I pulverize all the dirt woven into my heart and soul?

So I don't just want to be cleaned.  I want to be washed.  I want to go through torture.  I want to spin and spin and not know which way is up or where I am going.  I want to be washed inside and out.  I want the dirt woven in to my being to be taken out.  I want to trust that I'll make it through and that I'll become more than a conqueror.

I want to be made clean...