The prodigal son very likely had no time to clean up. Starving, smelling of pigs and hogwash, he made his way back home. His description of himself was accurate: he looked, smelled, and felt like a slave.
Yet the Father embraced him and kissed him, not minding the stench or the filthy clothes.
I need to remember that, and not let my filthy clothes and stench keep me from coming to Him for help. And I need to remember when we – my fellow prodigals and I – return.
random ruminations 