Musings on Marriage

Tag: Pottery

Cracked Pots

Dear Daughters,

Your cousin Charlene gave me a cracked piece of pottery she made a few months ago.  Although it is still quite beautiful, the flaw makes it unmarketable in her shop.  People want only items that are close to perfection.

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crack-2Unfortunately, we tend to expect the same in people.  But as we all know, we’re not going to get it.  We inevitably desire faultlessness (or at least improvement) in our husbands and ourselves, yet time and time again we get hurt, disappointed, wanting more.

We bear the desire of our once shimmering selves that lived in the Garden of Eden.  The desire for perfection, which our human mother and father once were, still lives within us.  At the end of the age we shall be perfect, as our Lord is perfect.  Until then we bear the marks of the fall.

So…how do we deal with the cracks in ourselves and others?crack

 

The following story is a beautiful image of our value despite brokenness:

A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck.  One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of a long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.  But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.

“Why,” asked the bearer, “what are you ashamed of?”

I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half of my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house.  Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work and you don’t get full value from your efforts, the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said,

“As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers on the side of the path,” and this cheered it somewhat.  But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot,

“Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side?  That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them.  For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table.  Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

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We are all cracked pots, whether we like to admit it or not.  Some of our flaws are more obvious than others’, but Jesus uses them all if we are willing to admit the cracks are there, then give ourselves to Him to use in His wisdom.

How often do we get angry, despise them or try to cover them up?

For years I saw the chronic fatigue I struggle with as a detriment, a waste of time, an annoyance and a burden to others.  Over the years Jesus has opened my eyes to be content with my disability, seeing it as a gift from Him.  I had to learn that I needed to be humbled – allowing Dad to care for me, learning to intercede and showing compassion to others who don’t have fit bodies, having lots of time to read and talk with people.  I didn’t have the energy to be efficient or busy.  I have found what has been better for me – to lay at the feet of Jesus, give thanks, and learn from Him.

One day I thought about the disability Jesus took on when He came to earth – the humility of having to live in a suit of flesh when He was used to roaming throughout the universe, bringing into existence galaxies, mountains, insects and people by using only His words.  It was certainly not a waste of His time coming to earth  – we needed Him.  He  became broken because His father willed it,  for a greater purpose.

I am learning the grace of yielding to His will, trusting that He will get done whatever He needs to do in my life.

He has given me strength to do what I have to do, no extra energy.  But you know what?  It’s OK.

Thank God for your cracks, your less than perfect body, your weaknesses, and He will do marvelous things.

From one cracked pot to another,

Love, Mom

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Photo by Kari Matthews

 

 

 

Throwing Pottery

Dear Daughters,

I’ll be throwing pottery Friday if you want to come and watch, said the text from your cousin Charlene last week.

Throwing pottery?  I knew she was a potter, but had not heard that term before.  At any rate I decided to go and see her work as a novice.

So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands…….Jeremiah 18:3

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When I arrived she was working on a partially finished bowl and had just a few finishing touches before it would be ready for the kiln.  Upside down on the wheel, she carefully trimmed away some excess clay so the bowl would be just right.  She was careful, yet still some chunks broke loose and the beautifully crafted rim she had molded was marred.  Charlene simply chuckled and said,

Well, sometimes we think we are this, but then we are that.

She threw the broken chunks into a nearby 5-gallon blue bucket, not even lamenting about the change of plans, but remarked,

Nothing is wasted.  All the mistakes just go into this bucket and we use them for a later project.

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Immediately I thought about Romans 8:28 “…and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose…”  How often have I mourned and become angry about things that have happened to me, how I have not embraced the pain, the grief and the hurt that have come.  I have simply wanted the agony to go away.  I could see no point except pain in what was happening, and who wants that?

But God, our perfect Potter, wastes nothing.  He saves the pain for a later project.  Sometimes we think we are one thing, but God has another plan, a better plan.  So a few chips get knocked off and He continues to do his good work.

Charlene used lots of different tools but her favorite was a little 89-cent sponge from the grocery store.  A simple tool, but so effective.  With it she could smooth the clay or make thin little lines all around the pot.  She spoke,

Any good tool has many purposes.

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Just think of all the tools God uses on you – your husband, your children, annoying workers at the office, rude neighbors and apartment dwellers, slow thinkers and movers.  Every one of them has a purpose, to help mold us to become more patient, kind, generous, less boastful, more humble – more like Jesus.

After the first pot was finished Charlene started another vase beginning with a single lump of clay.  She threw it on the blue plastic bat which was attached to the wheel head.  It didn’t stick the first time so she threw it again, adhering well.  But there it was on the edge of the bat.  Even I knew that this was not going to work.  So a few more times of throwing and it landed, with a little encouragement, exactly in the center.

Centering is everything.

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Yep, that sure sounds like real life.  If I don’t center myself on Jesus first thing in the morning, my day is not going to go well.  I will find myself more critical, impatient, and annoyed.  Just this morning I woke late, so jumped out of bed without even a word to Jesus and started my morning routine.  At breakfast I snapped at a comment Dad had made, which typically happens less than it used to.  Then I remembered, Oh yeah, I never asked for strength and help this morning, I just tried doing things in my own strength, which isn’t much these days.

As I watched that ugly lump of clay spin around on the potter’s wheel, it slowly took shape in the loving, wedging, nestling hands of Charlene.  Watching her hover around the lump of clay I could see her joy in her work, her love for the art, and her vision for what was going to appear.  Every now and again she would stop and center the lump a little better because it would tend to stray.  She said,

Do not let the clay tell you what to do; it will become a very naughty toddler. This pot seems to have an attitude so I’ll have to center it again.

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How often do I tell Jesus I don’t really like how my life is shaping up?  I sometimes give him some ideas which I think would be much better: If you could just make things easier, less invasive, more predictable, yada yada.  Really? I’m trying to tell the genius creator of the universe that I have a better plan?  Perhaps I need to work on centering myself so I become more submissive, more obedient, trusting and accepting of what comes my way, knowing that God’s ways are ultimately the best. Giving thanks for the difficult stuff.

The potter is the hero of the story.

She is the one who forms, shapes and creates beauty with a seemingly useless ugly lump of clay.  I think we (I know for sure I) want to be the hero and tend to put ourselves in a far too important role at times.  But we must keep in mind always that Jesus is the Hero, He is the creator and sustainer of all things.  Everything He does is good and will be used someday in His grand story.

I left that day before Charlene fired the pots in the kiln, however, I did learn that it heats up to 1800 degrees, and the pottery is cooked not once but twice.  Once after the shaping, another time after the glaze is applied.  I believe we as people go through the fire as well, our lives heat up almost beyond bearable, but at just the right time we are taken out and left to cool.  How else can we become strong and durable?  It certainly doesn’t happen when our life is sweet and cushy as marshmallows.

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Making pottery is a process, and I now understand why handmade pottery is expensive.  It gave me a whole new appreciation for the work Charlene does and the work, care and patience God has for me.  Let Him have His way with you, my dear daughters, and you too will become beautiful in the hands of the Potter.

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Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

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