There are days when I feel like unworkable clay. I don’t know much about pottery, but I do know that clay is a tough substance to work with. You have to push it hard to get exactly what you want, and yet if you don’t use a gentle hand, you are likely to destroy your own work.
I feel like a lump of clay. I am being pushed each and every day to become something more than what I am, to become better and more beautiful through the process of molding and pushing, pinching, and prodding. And at the end of every day, I feel spent. I’m tired of being stretched like taffy. I feel like snapping.
As I sit down to write this, I look over and see my husband of 18 years sitting in his wheelchair, sleeping because it takes so much effort for him to just be up in a vertical position, because he doesn’t get decent sleep anymore, because his lungs can no longer push the carbon dioxide out of his lungs completely. My heart just melts into a puddle inside me. Does that make this lump of clay more workable?
Last week, I had to monitor a week-long lockdown of all three kids because of their little experiment with fire at the beginning of the week. After six long days of keeping them from all screens in the house, telling them and their friends no play time, keeping them from taking it out on each other and me, my spirit was deeply exhausted. Does that make this lump of clay more workable?
Beginning to see how single parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. Luke is pushing to see how far the limits of my patience reach. Micah needing a snuggle more than a lecture. Simon continually pushing the ‘pesty little brother’ button with his brothers. All three things happening at the same time. I feel like the rope in tug-of-war. Does that make this lump of clay more workable?
My list of phone calls to make to keep all the paperwork in order for the business side of things is growing longer again. The Duke Fund – I need to find out how to submit receipts. The lawyer – to finalize will and beneficiary designations. Medical Assistance – clarify what the actual payment is supposed to be. Long term disability – make sure health insurance continues for the boys and me. My mind is running in circles with all the details. Does that make this lump of clay more workable?
I have to make a conscious decision to remain malleable. My tendency is to harden myself to what’s happening around me, to disappear into my own alternate reality. But if I do that, then God cannot work in my heart. I must allow Him to apply the pressures of molding and correcting so that I can become the beautiful creation He has in mind. I feel like I am going out of my mind. And yet, I must keep in mind what Pastor Roy Fruits said in his sermon yesterday: If He has mapped out the future, He can certainly handle my present.
I choose therefore, to be workable clay. To present myself to the Potter and say, “Make me into whatever you envision for me. I trust You to push me to my limit without breaking me. I trust You to be gentle with your creative processes in my life.” And now, I allow the Potter to work in me. And someday, I will look in the mirror to see the finished artwork I will have become. It certainly isn’t what I had in mind; it will be even better.