I've noticed something about the things I love most in my home. They're not the things I keep pristine on a shelf. They're the things that show wear. The cutting board with knife marks. The blanket that's been washed a hundred times. The mug with the chip on the rim that I still reach for every morning.
These things were made to be used. And in being used, they become more themselves. More loved. More part of the life they were meant to serve.
"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:10, NIV)
There's something about this verse that settles me when I feel worn down by the dailiness of life. The repetition. The small, unseen work that no one applauds. It reminds me that I wasn't made to stay pristine. I was made to be used by God, in the quiet and ordinary work He prepared long before I knew my own name.
The wear and tear of loving well, of showing up, of doing the next right thing even when you're tired, that's not damage. That's becoming. That's what it looks like to live a life that's actually being lived, not just preserved.
God doesn't need you perfect. He needs you willing. He needs you present. And in that using, in that showing up day after day, you become more of who you were always meant to be.
What small, faithful thing is in front of you today? That's the work God prepared.