A Poem by Leslie Hill Wannamaker (my beautiful sister)
The Potter: I was not whole until He broke me
A lump I was and a lump I would stay.
Soft and supple, a mound of clay.
And so I waited for my turn on the wheel.
Waiting, just waiting, His hands to feel.
One day I was chosen, and I thought it must be
that I'd done something special. I thought it was me.
I did not resist as he kneaded and pressed.
I did not resist as he left me to rest.
But the Master's tools became rough and crude.
They hacked and they hammered, exposed and nude.
I began to feel a little bit daunted
as I realized this was not what I'd wanted.
When I felt that surely this pressure must end,
for I could not recognize the lump I had been.
When I thought I just couldn't take anymore,
my world changed again, though I was aching and sore.
The Master's hands became gentle and kind.
He urged and he teased as he molded my mind.
This is easy, I thought. My shape will soon come.
Then the Master leaned over, His voice a soft hum.
He said you are ready. I've done all that I can.
It is time for the fire to see where we stand.
The kiln was quite nice. I had no need to fear.
I'd become special. Surely I'd gotten me here.
But as the temperature started to rise,
I turned on my Master. I said he told lies.
How could he leave me in here all alone.
How could he think I'd survive on my own.
As the fire grew stronger, I realized the truth.
The lies were all mine and here is the proof.
I said I was special but he made me so.
I said I'd earned it, little did I know.
As the fire died down, I noticed a bright square.
I realized my Master's eyes had always been there.
He didn't leave me here without care.
The Master, I knew, would always be there.
When he glazed me and placed me back in the fire,
my heart didn't bubble with the same sort of ire.
I knew I must trust Him for He knew the best.
I know this moment, but He knows the rest.
The fire washed over and I did not resist.
I knew it would hurt but I knew I'd persist.
Out I emerged, a beautiful piece.
Awaiting my purpose, my journey to cease.
And as I sit waiting, I see it more clearly.
God loves us all. He loves us all dearly.
He choses each for their perfect part.
It is now what we have but who we are in our heart.
We do not become jars of clay by happenstance.
We are who we are by design, not by chance.
So if ever you find yourself deep in the fire.
Follow the Master and not your desire.
God will not lead your footsteps astray.
He is with us right now, each moment, each day.
A lump I was and a lump I would stay.
Soft and supple, a mound of clay.
And so I waited for my turn on the wheel.
Waiting, just waiting, His hands to feel.
One day I was chosen, and I thought it must be
that I'd done something special. I thought it was me.
I did not resist as he kneaded and pressed.
I did not resist as he left me to rest.
But the Master's tools became rough and crude.
They hacked and they hammered, exposed and nude.
I began to feel a little bit daunted
as I realized this was not what I'd wanted.
When I felt that surely this pressure must end,
for I could not recognize the lump I had been.
When I thought I just couldn't take anymore,
my world changed again, though I was aching and sore.
The Master's hands became gentle and kind.
He urged and he teased as he molded my mind.
This is easy, I thought. My shape will soon come.
Then the Master leaned over, His voice a soft hum.
He said you are ready. I've done all that I can.
It is time for the fire to see where we stand.
The kiln was quite nice. I had no need to fear.
I'd become special. Surely I'd gotten me here.
But as the temperature started to rise,
I turned on my Master. I said he told lies.
How could he leave me in here all alone.
How could he think I'd survive on my own.
As the fire grew stronger, I realized the truth.
The lies were all mine and here is the proof.
I said I was special but he made me so.
I said I'd earned it, little did I know.
As the fire died down, I noticed a bright square.
I realized my Master's eyes had always been there.
He didn't leave me here without care.
The Master, I knew, would always be there.
When he glazed me and placed me back in the fire,
my heart didn't bubble with the same sort of ire.
I knew I must trust Him for He knew the best.
I know this moment, but He knows the rest.
The fire washed over and I did not resist.
I knew it would hurt but I knew I'd persist.
Out I emerged, a beautiful piece.
Awaiting my purpose, my journey to cease.
And as I sit waiting, I see it more clearly.
God loves us all. He loves us all dearly.
He choses each for their perfect part.
It is now what we have but who we are in our heart.
We do not become jars of clay by happenstance.
We are who we are by design, not by chance.
So if ever you find yourself deep in the fire.
Follow the Master and not your desire.
God will not lead your footsteps astray.
He is with us right now, each moment, each day.
