My hands are dirty. Despite scrubbing them multiple times, the creases of my palms are red with mud. Paint resides under my nails and callouses cover my thin fingers.
My feet are brown–a combination of suntan and filth. Chipped orange polish decorates my jagged toenails. Blisters on my toes turned to rough patches in my worn sneakers.
Bruises adorn my shins. My arms are bumpy with bug bites. Tree sap cakes my hair. The rosiness on my cheeks is pure sunburn, and Chapstick has become virtually ineffective on my dry lips.
And I love it. I love being used up. I love being poured out; the emptiness fulfills me. Every hangnail, every cut, and every scar is a reminder that Christ gave his all for me. I will give my all for Him.