A Limp Rag

I grab the rag. It is damp with decay. Smelly and limp.

I rinse it quickly. It will have to do.

There is a clean corner I use for my purpose. To cleanse the sticky fingers, the smeared mouth of this wiggling baby.

The rag is not much, but it serves its purpose.

My daughter will throw this cloth into the washer. It will be rid of stale and decay. It will lay, prettily, in her drawer until needed anew.

I am but a filthy rag, cleansed. Isaiah 64:6

On my own, I am not much. Well-used. Worn. A bit smelly.

In His hands there is radiance, transformation.

I am a limp rag, used for His purpose.

I offer my damp corners to Him.