He is the Potter

My Nana-blitzed kids enjoyed pottery adventure with their grandmother today.  There is something freedom making about a lump of clay.  Each child immediately identified its liberty.  It sits there in front of you ever patient and waits for your hand to discover what it was made to be.  Typical of our children, they went in entirely different directions with their projects like the four points of a compass. The Baby made a picture frame, The Oldest Girl made a heart pinch pot, The Middle Girl made a pedestal box, and The Boy made a caricature of his grandfather complete with a huge, giving-a-raspberry tongue.

It delights their Nana to see them chase their own muses and the children really groove the wave of her sincere presence.  They feel her eyes like a hug when she watches them with complete appreciation.  It’s an intangible gift that she gives them and compliments their whimsy.  As such, it was no surprise to us that each of the kids crafted a clay creation that reflected their unique signatures.

What did surprise us, however, was what happened after they sculpted their wares.  Each pulled off, somewhat subdued as if still connected with his creative muse, and independently, without consulting each other did something creative.

The Middle Girl and The Oldest Girl sketched and wrote poems.

With permission, here are their poems:

The Rose

Pink,
red,
white,
yellow,
thorny stems,
pale green leaves
given from person to person
beautiful and deadly
full of white lies
the rose is like love.

The Oldest Girl

The Face of Love

The face of love
flew off my pillow with
beautiful wings,
leaving a sweet smelling
pink mist behind her.
She left feeling of
joy and love!
I decided to go out
and put good things
in the world
I now love the outdoors,
but I had seen the face
of love and I
have been changed.

The Middle Girl

Their pottery and poems remind me once again, He is the Potter, and they His clay.  How much I delight in the children He gave us!

And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!