Unglazed ~ Sage
A small terra cotta pot sits on the shelf. Imperfect. Amateur. Unglazed.
I cradle it in my hands, feeling the rough ridges of the clay, placing my thumb over the impression of a misplaced fingerprint, wondering why it is unfinished.
I visualize the strong, thick hands of the man I never met, but whose eyes I have stared into, soaking up the twinkle that I see in the the old black and white photographs from the years before I was born.
He was handsome. Strong. Laughing. Loving.
He had a space between his teeth…and he left that to me. I never heard his voice, felt his hug, smelt his aftershave. He died too young, a few months before I was born…
His life seems unfinished. Unglazed.
Turning the pot over, I use my finger to trace the initials on the bottom…R.H. Robert Holland. My grandfather. I wonder why I never met him. And how life would be different if I had. But that is the past. And those questions are futile.
I form a pot…the wet clay molding to my fingers as the wheel turns. I am also a vessel. Being molded and formed and fired. I want to be used…to be loved…to fulfill the purpose The Potter has…
For now, I am imperfect. Amateur. Unglazed.
From~ Something Sage
Photos by Tera
I love this.
Thank you. Today I needed to think on The Master Potter, and vessels. I desire to know, “can an unglazed pot be useful or filled?” I desire to be finished, useful , filled with Him, but it must be in His timing, for HE alone is The Master Potter! I love His fingerprints on me, it means I am loved enough for Him to have touched me in the first place! And I desire for His hand to continue to center me, press upon me, work with this clay from the inside out, and someday glaze me!
You took pictures!!! I love the pictures!!!!
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