The Universe's Mixer

It seemed to Shepherd Book that a church was never completely clean. Oh, spiritually, of course. But with people coming in and out at all hours, because Book refused to ever lock the doors, a certain amount of clutter tended to pile up. A crumpled tissue. Hymnals left laying in the pews rather than put back into the holders. Various detritus dragged in and dropped as people passed through.

He didn’t resent it, though. It was only proof that the house of God was being used. And that it was needed. He might grumble a bit as he picked up a crumpled receipt or a dropped flyer, but he did not resent it. There was also something therapeutic in cleaning. At least that’s what he was telling himself. After all, ( cleanliness was next to godliness. )