This post was supposed to be written about 8 months ago. My brother got me a gift for Christmas – a bountiful check with the condition that I “do something I’ve always wanted to do and blog about it.” I chose pottery. I was so excited: I signed up for the class, roped my dear friend Alexi into it, and drove to the cities on my birthday with my painting flannel and paint pants on, ready to get down and dirty, slinging some clay. My teacher was exactly what you would expect, a long braid down the back of her neck, a simple t-shirt, and clay-stained jeans. She had grown up in the neighborhood, learning how to make pottery at this clay center for most of her life. I loved how beautiful this small community, admist a larger community was. The skill levels of everyone in my class varied greatly. There were first-timers, young and old; there were those who owned their own pottery wheel and were just here for the community. Alexi had some experience, but claimed to be a bit rusty. The teacher sat down at the wheel, her students forming a tight half-circle a safe distance from the wheel. She showed us how to center the clay, how to work it into shapes, and how to mess up. This is called a rainbow. It’s what we make when we mess up – it spreads the clay out so that it can dry again. You will mess up. Everybody is required to make at least one rainbow. Some people make 3 or 4 or even 6 rainbows. Did I hear her right? I am required to make a mistake? I’m not going to make a rainbow – I’m going to wow everyone. I thought stubbornly. To probably absolutely no one’s surprise, I messed up. I made a rainbow. In fact – I made 6 rainbows that day. I kept trying to think of how God was teaching me through these darn rainbows.
I tried to connect it to him being the potter, but never making mistakes. I tried to connect it to the rainbow and Noah and all that, but it didn’t really work. God doesn’t make clay rainbows, because he doesn’t screw up. But he does make real rainbows because he is God and he puts those things up in the sky. So about 8 months later, I finally made the connection. I am not only allowed to make rainbows, I am expected to create rainbows. I forget so often that I am human, that I am allowed to make mistakes, and that people actually expect it. I forget that I am allowed to fail and that I'm not perfect. I forget that I am learning. I have been learning to remember that I am allowed to make mistakes, that I am human, that perfection is not just hard, but impossible. I have been stuck so long in the lies of perfection that it's actually a lot harder to live in the truth of being allowed to mess up or not do everything right all of the time. I am not capable. I AM DETERMINED. That means I can keep working hard and trying, but I don't have to be perfect. That means I can hope, look forward, and live tenaciously as I was created to be. [Also, I really love doing pottery and I can't wait until I get to imperfectly sling clay again.]
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I stepped closer to the paining and immediately I lost the picture. All I saw were specks of paint and large brush strokes. My eye caught a blue streak amongst the green. "It doesn't make sense. It doesn't fit in to the larger picture. It's surrounded by green and it's confusing that it is here." "It is a part of a larger picture. It does have a purpose, even surrounded by all green. Back up and see the whole thing. I have you where I want you, be content in that, but be focused on me not on the loneliness of your blue streak. I have a good plan for your future, rest and peace, green and solitude, like this picture. But until then, be content with where I have you and how I will use you." Because on June 5th, God spoke to me through a painting in an art exhibit. [I've started to process China more intentionally lately. There will be a few posts about it. Unfortunately, there is only so much I can say. I would really appreciate talking about it more at length if you are interested.]
God, in the past week, you keep asking me to dream.
You have asked me through blog posts from my sisters Alexi and Coral. You have asked me through a letter from my brother Luke. You have asked me by giving me the weirdest little glimpse into my future. You have asked me through the repeated question "Where do you want to teach?" that all of my professors ask. You have asked me by causing me to get out my dream journal which has stared me in the face for 2 weeks until I couldn't stand it anymore and put it away. You have asked me through wit comm meetings that beg the question "What do you want this semester to look like?" You have asked me through questions like "What would your dream date be?" and "What would you buy if you won the lottery?" You have asked me through the obligation of creating a new and enticing dessert. You have whispered these words through the big and the small. I feel like I am sunk at the bottom of a deep dark ocean and I am swimming with no idea as to where the surface might be. "Seek the light" they say, but this far down, there is no light to be seen. My arms and legs suddenly become heavy and leaden as the oxygen begins to escape from my body. I am fighting, resisting; my mind screams as panic overwhelms me. I need to breathe again. I need to feel the warmth of the sun touch my face. I want to resurface, but this far down, even seeing the light of day again seems unreachable. crack me open
take out my dirty insides fill me with your greatest gift: your presence make me whole make my soul long solely for you saturate me with your glorious truth expel the lies in the name of your son Jesus do this all in the light of your glory so that He may be glorified amen |
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December 2022
I'm guessing I'll have it all figured out by the time I turn 30.
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