Going

I began going to the Potter’s House when I was 17. Stopping to listen at His knee and to watch His Hands work, I was still and quiet. I’m uncertain how He got me to be still.
Until then, I was wild and untamed. My long hair flying in the wind, I flew about from here to there . I was in constant motion, searching; Searching for freedom. The deep longing within my spirit to be free drew me to the confines of His studio. The four walls did not close in like my previous classrooms. The seat at the Potter’s wheel was not uncomfortable. My hands, immersed in wet, earthen clay were dancing over little lumps of creation. I was deep into creativity, learning about the Potter’s love for me… and for others.
My self centered existence began to morph into a completely new view of living.

The Words of the Potter spoke to my soul. I engraved them upon the pots I made and wrote them on the tablet of my heart. They were on the pages of journals and on my mind. They would even wake me at night in a song. They lifted me from darkness and flooded me with Light.

Oh Potter, lead me on. Show me Your ways….