On my best days I’m a 5-7am workout. I’m a protein shake for breakfast and a styled head of hair out the door on time for work. On my best days I am patient and graceful and loving when with the baby I nanny. I am sliced turkey and carrots for lunch. I am bubbling over with joy and overflowing with confidence. On my best days I am kind and welcoming to those dear to me and those far from me. I am a washed and toned face before bed with my workout clothes picked out for the next morning.
On my worst days I am a ragged bed head continually hitting snooze while convincing myself it’s okay to skip the gym today. I’m a bowl of lucky charms for breakfast and a burrito bowl for lunch. I am a head thrown back and an anguished sigh of frustration when I can’t calm the cries of the baby I nanny. On my worst days I left Netflix be the entertainer while I am a detached and numbed nanny. I am an afternoon ice cream cone because it’s been a hard day. On my worst days I’m a dirty body climbing into bed and scrolling mindlessly through social media instead of spending time with Jesus.
Most weeks the worst me is present more than the best me. But the thing I forget so easily is that Jesus loves me the best on the worst days and loves me the best on the best days. His love doesn’t depend on my mood - thank the good Lord for that - and it doesn’t depend on my attitude. His grace and mercy is there each new day - even if it’s not my best day.
And every day I’m thankful for that.