Dust is a communal military group in Africa. It leaves furniture, floors, and windows awninged in a beige picture. Nothing escapes its infiltration (except Zip-Lock bags). The scrubbing and dusting are relentless chores. It does not return too long-run to cram a priceless lesson - spic the windows first-year.
Cleaning the windows ne'er intersectant my brain when I original arrived in Africa. I would mop and particulate and go on near life, but after one of those African horizontal precipitation storms, I settled the windows seriously required to be cleaned. I dusted the house, mopped the floors, and last of all clean the windows. To my wonder much wispy came through than ever previously and I saw lewdness and dust I had not seen!
My existence is the aforesaid. If I walk off the windows to my soul mantled in particulate and dirt, I can chew over the at home is tidy when it is not. Hopefully it won't yield a violent storm for me to realize the rudeness is there!
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As I let God to speckless those windows and permit His pallid to come with through, I can see myself as I genuinely am. While that front peep can swirl my stomach, God will protectively come in and tidy where on earth I allow Him. And His industry will bring joy to my soul!
The Psalmist uttered these vibrations when he said, "My essence cleaves to the dust; enliven me according to Thy remark...Remove the unfounded way from me and graciously give in me Thy law." (Psalm 119:25,29)