<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="overflow-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;"><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;">Your Kitchen Floor<div><br></div><div><p><span class="poemfont">God loves your kitchen floor, <br> but not for the reason you might think . . . <br><br>You may love a look that's brand new, <br> as if the carpenters had just <br> buffed, sealed, and waxed your floor. <br>As if light would land on it <br> and you would see fairies <br> with mops and buckets and white gloves. <br><br>No, God is not interested in that. <br><br>God loves a kitchen floor that has had <br> accident after accident, <br> disaster after disaster, <br> embarrassment after embarrassment <br> on your watch. <br>That you dutifully and incredulously <br> clean up with the sweat of <br> your humility <br> your bravery <br> and your disbelief. <br>Kicking and screaming that it wasn't your fault, <br> or that you weren't aware of it, <br> or that your parents, neighbors, and God <br>All Hate You. <br><br>God wants to see you clean your kitchen floor <br> down to the bone <br> down to the floorboards <br> down to the heart of why you have a kitchen at all. <br><br>Because God wants you to eat well. </span></p></div><div><span class="poemfont"><br></span></div><div><span class="poemfont"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>- Michael Smolens</span></div></div></body></html>