I’m surveying the kitchen floor. I’m trying to decide if mopping will do, but then I see the extent of the week’s activities on the floor: food coloring in cracks, sprinkles there, muddy snow stains over here, and batter dried by the stove.
I fill the bucket with sudsy water, gather a scrubber, wash cloth, and towels, and I kneel down to clean.
I consider my life: some days, the mop seems to do, but most days, I need to get on my knees before Him and seek a cleaned, renewed heart. Most mornings are the On Your Knees Kind because of the extent of the damage and grime from the day before.
I pray and clean right there on my knees.