Here’s what I love: painting my own pottery.
Have you ever been to one of those places? You know, where you walk in and choose a powdery white piece of ceramic pottery like a plate or a bowl or a turtle and then choose your colors and sit down and paint it? I like stuff like that, but even if you’re not ultra artsy, you might enjoy it. There’s something comforting about looking at a blank canvas (or coffee mug) and just going to town painting it however you want. Blue with black polka-dots? Sure! Yellow with green vines and red flowers? Sounds perfect! I mean, the possibilities are endless. I’ve been to paint-your-own-pottery places quite a bit.—with friends, on dates, with kids, even by myself.
I usually give away the pieces I paint. I know for sure that my mom, my dad, my mother-in-law, new babies, and some friends have received hand-painted “Elisabeth Cutrer” originals for one reason or another. I love giving one-of-a-kind gifts. However, in college one time, I went to a pottery studio with a friend and painted a big letter “E”—for elephant—Not really, it’s “E” is for Elisabeth. Duh. I spent a long, long time on this particular piece. I painted it all a very light avocado color and then did several other shades of green on top of that in sort of a mish-mash abstract way. Then, I added some different shades of colors and painted in some flowers here and there. Something about all the different colors and the blotchy brush strokes seemed to work. It turned out to be a really lovely piece. (If I do say so myself.) I loved that “E.” It hung on the wall in my dorm room in college and usually found itself propped on a desk or a bookshelf in some form or fashion in each of the places I’ve lived since getting married after college graduation.
Here’s what I hate: we are broken.
In our new Nashville home, I set it up on top of a decorative box on my desk and leaned it against the wall. It added the perfect amount of color and whimsy to my desk area. An added bonus was that the fabric covered box, which served as a podium for the favored “E,” also did a good job of hiding the ugly printer cord which came from below the desk and wound around the box to plug into my laptop.
This was apparently not a good set-up for my highly breakable letter “E.” Because a few weeks ago, when my sweet husband went to retrieve my Mac Book from my desk, the printer cord was still plugged in firmly to my computer…He picked up the lightweight lap-top which pulled the cord which pulled the fabric-covered box which held the “E” propped on top. Everything came crashing down and the E broke into exactly six pieces—two of which are the size of my fingernail.
My poor husband came sheepishly into the kitchen carrying the pieces of my beloved masterpiece. “I’m so sorry,” he began, “I broke your E.” I actually handled the whole situation fairly well. I wasn’t all that upset. I knew I had placed the ceramic piece in a precarious position. So, I really didn’t get sad or mad.
Bill carefully set the E on the dining room table. And there it sits awaiting super glue. It sits there broken, staring at me every time I walk by. That’s when I started getting unhappy. I rather wished that Bill would fix it. I mean, he’s the one who broke it after all. He could go to the store, get super glue (in all his free time…) and piece it back together for me. I mean, isn’t that the right thing to do?! A few nights ago I was sort of steaming about this in the kitchen—the fact that Bill hadn’t fixed my “E.” And then something struck me right in the middle of my internal monologue of complaint. MY “E.” The “E” is MY creation. It should be my responsibility to fix it—and frankly, I’ll probably do a better job because I will fix it with all the care I used to make it.
We are God’s creation. Psalm 139:14 says that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” What does that mean, “fearfully” made? I think it has to do with the awe involved when you stop and think about the process of somehow melding a soul to the flesh at conception. Psalm 139:13 uses the word “knit.” Knitting is done with the hands. God’s hands knit us together. That’s a bit more than slapping some paint on a pre-fab letter E.
I am broken. (As evidenced by my sinful attitude of anger towards my apologetic husband for not doing something he didn't even know I wanted him to do...) We are all broken. We find ourselves doing things that we were not designed to do. You could say that it’s Adam and Eve’s fault for sinning and getting cursed and all. So, shouldn’t they fix us? But, God made us. He is the only one who can fix us with the same care he used to make us because we belong to Him.
Fortunately, He doesn’t come at us with super glue. Instead, He gives us a whole new start. It would be like if I could somehow meld the same pieces back into a brand new letter “E” with an even better paint job.
New.
We can't fix ourselves. (Just like my letter “E” can’t fix itself.)
No one else can fix us. (It’s not their job.)
We have to place ourselves into His hands. Admit we are broken for one reason or another and ask to be fixed. He will renew you and make you beautiful because of His GREAT love for you, His creation.
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