I wish I could say that I am one of those potters who was a natural from the beginning-- that I sat down on the wheel, centered with one hand, and cranked out some cylinders. No, starting out was a very messy process. I didn't grow up as an "artsy girl". As college rolled around I felt unsettled in life, unsure of what to do. I will never forget one of my many weekend trips home from college to visit my mom. We had been discussing what I'd like to do for a career and nothing seemed fitting. "I just don't know which path to take," is the phrase I said right before my mom and I got up to open the door for the Papa John's pizza man. We pay this fellow at the door and as he's turning to leave, he pauses and turns back to us. "Do you think I could share something with you?" he asked. This is what our pizza guy said to us..
"I was praying as I was driving to your house.. The Lord was speaking to me.. showing me an image of a clock with the dial moving around and around, never stopping. The clock had a big yellow smily face in the center. His voice said, 'My timing is perfect. Trust me. I will tell you which path to take.'"
Ever since that season of uncertainty in my life, God has given me a passion for clay unlike anything I've ever known. Pottery has become a deeply comforting and humbling practice, one that allows me to meditate and reflect on God the Creator.
There's something so magical about seeing the mud in your hands turn into your favorite coffee mug. Every time I witness it I can't help but think about the mess that I am and the fact that God can make me into something useful-- even beautiful.
And yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand. Isaiah 64:8