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; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
It is no secret my life was less than perfect for many years and I wasted more time than I care to think of on my own selfish endeavors. I didn’t help anyone nor myself with how I spent my precious “60 seconds at a time” ticking away. When I realized that time was slipping away I felt sorry that I didn’t have the life I wanted.
I am sorry no longer and the life I have is all I could want and so much more.
My changing life is not my own work but that of my Maker. I was the marred pot but it was not my maker who hindered my beauty. I was marred because I tried to “make myself” without understanding the beautiful plan the potter had for me to begin with. He took my damaged clay and continues to remold me into something more beautiful and better for use.
How precious are the hands of my Father.