My mother always said that some days are better than others. I’m often thankful that my standing in God’s grip of grace doesn’t depend on how I’m feeling about myself, my family, my accomplishments, or the cleanliness of my house. God knows better than that — and I can rest in the beauty that He created me dependent on His wind: His Spirit to contain me, sustain me, move me. I can blow like a weed, rooted in His love and perfect plan for me, as long as I keep my face turned up towards His sunshine. It’s how He’ll turn my weeds into something for His glory. For God, all days are the same.
