Lowering the immaculately painted ceramic piece ever so gently into the large firing kiln in the back corner of the unfinished laundry room, my grandma breathed a quiet sigh as it touch the bottom now securely settled ready for many hours of intense heat to bake it to perfection permanently bringing out the desired colors and texture.
As a young girl I watched as my grandma took on this hobby and dare I say passion as it clearly was. She spent countless hours over the years creating gifts and treasures for family and friends, some of those treasures having permanent places of love in my home there to cherish for generations to come.
Days later after the piece had been cooled, I watched my grandma sitting in her regular chair at her kitchen table.. paints and brush in hand so delicately and precisely trimming and covering the piece she was crafting at the moment. I never once felt anxious about the delicate piece hitting the floor and bumping against something hard on the table as I watched. I observed my grandmother holding the piece gently but firmly in her hand as her brush glided smoothly along the surface in her other hand, accompanied by a gentle scraping now and then just to remove some unwanted sharp edges.
It was a beautiful unique piece in the making and it was beautiful to watch not only because of the progress of the clay piece but watching my grandma whom I loved so much enjoy the process so much.
By the time the rough ceramic piece had been bought at her favorite ceramic shop in the city on her and grandpa’s weekly trips, it had been handpicked… each piece with its own character..kneaded.. not poked so as to eliminate tiny air bubbles and imperfections. Thin but strong string cut off the top from a lump of clay on the wheel, the perfect amount and piece shaped by the Potter’s fingers into an individual masterpiece leaving the unused lump behind.
Sometimes The potter’s fingers needed to stay steady in one spot to create the desired effect and then sometimes nimble fingers covered in mud and water would move steady in another direction.. the piece almost becoming one with the potter in the process.
This beautiful memory of my grandmother’s passion in the final stages of her masterpieces reminds me of our God. Just as I had no worries about my grandmother dropping the clay pot as she was working on it so too I trust my God’s hands to hold me firm in all of my life’s journey lovingly in his hands.
He is the master potter of our lives. He holds us lovingly in his hands.. His amazing loving hands… with His amazing love and goodness and never ending Grace. He has a plan for each of us to be his Masterpiece that will reflect in the hearts of many for generations to come just like my grandma’s treasures she created will be loved and appreciated for many generations to come.
Sometimes his finger is on our lives to hold us steady in one pattern so as to really make an impression of his love, mercy and grace. Other times He makes an impression of who we are in Him. And then at other times of our lives he “kneads” us into His image through his love letters to us in the Word…all the while loving the process of creating His masterpiece…us.
We are all His masterpiece. Each one of us unique and personally crafted. Not one the same.
All created by the love of the Potter’s touch♥️