I am dust.  The only life in me is what God breathes in by His mercy each moment.  The only good in me is that which God, in His creativity and power, can bring to bear in this otherwise unlovely, unremarkable, incapable stuff that I am.

And He is the only One who can decide what is good.

I may want to be something beautiful and graceful – intricate in form and prized by others, but if He instead makes me something ordinary, utilitarian, stored in a closet or garage rather than set on display, I need to trust that the form He gave me has value to Him.

Maybe, someday, there will be a blizzard, and I will be happy to be a snow shovel instead of a precious gem.   Maybe.