A Mopping Epiphany

  Strange title, you're probably thinking. Right now, I'm waiting for the floor to dry so that I can rescue the kitchen chairs from their perch atop the dining room table. I tend to carry out a lot of midnight mopping around here. No, my parents are not slave-drivers, it's just my fault for not doing it earlier in the day. I do have reasons: A) it's nice to think that it will stay clean for at least 7+ hours before someone gets it dirty again, and B) it gives me some nice quiet time to listen to an audio book or my music.
  Tonight, my soundtrack was Francesca Battistelli, and I stood there, one of her songs really hit me--BAM!

  ...He knows my name/

  I'm not living for applause/

  I'm already so adored/

  It's all His stage/

  He knows my name...

He knows my name. I've already heard this song, but I'm not really sure that it connected with my brain until just now. Standing with a mop in my hands, washing the kitchen tile, I realized that even if Mom doesn't notice the clean floor when she wakes up in the morning, (my little siblings most certainly will not notice), that God is watching me. Watching me scrub the floors and wash the dishes! The Creator of the Universe knows my name, and to Him, I am famous.
  Right now, I am struggling with being very self-conscious about the way I sound. I just got my bottom braces put on, and since I have a slight overbite, I also had to get some bite-guard thingees put up behind my front teeth to stop them from hitting my brackets when I bite down. As you can imagine, I now have a slight lisp. It's probably not as bad as I think, but it is noticeable when I talk or sing. Up until last Tuesday, my voice was my "one beauty" (as Jo March would say). I love to sing, and hearing myself lisp is pretty hard. I try to joke about it, and say that I sound like the beaver from Disney's Lady and the Tramp. ("Shaaaay! Thish works shwell!")
  But listening to those words tonight: "His forever, Held and Treasured ... I am loved..." Is a beautiful reminder that no matter what I sound like, or even if anyone's listening or watching, God sees me, sees through the lisp, and loves me just the same. I don't know about you, but I'd say not having to worry about what others think is pretty "shwell", because I have the kitchen floor as my stage, and God as my audience.