I began to clean the vase of Earthen shaped pottery,
That sat on my mantle throughout my life of days.
And when I did, it fell apart in my hands.
It couldn't take the pressure; weakened; so delicately made,
It's ruination was my misguided attempt to perfect it,
As I labored diligently to prepare it for use.
I mourned for the loss of my misshapen, clay vessel,
That had endured a multitude of nicks and cracks throughout my life,
As I continued working on it from my earliest days.
It reminded me of the pain of my youthful indiscretions
And the trials through my adult life, as the years rapidly whisked past me.
It represented everything I had become and thought I would ever be.
One day, broken and in pieces, I fearfully took it to the Creator
Asking, "Can you fix this? Do you have the power?"
In a word, He said, "Yes", then smashed it to my unexpected horror.
Confidently, He began grinding the shards of the pottery;
Pounding them furiously until there was only fine dust remaining. Unrecognizable.
I grieved for my loss, realizing for the first time that I WAS that vessel.
I asked myself, "Could He not have understood what I had wanted? Did He not care?"
Purposefully and with determination, he reconstituted the dust with living water;
Molding; shaping; reforming my former vessel with His healing Hands,
Until the pale, earthen vessel was reshaped. And then, He shoved it into an oven,
Surrounded it with heat no human could endure, but under His watchful Eye,
Until the new vessel brilliantly reflected it's Creator's Image...and now, so do I.