Behold like the clay in the potter’s hand.
So are you in my hand.
Our life flows out like sand.
But we remain in his parkland.
He reworked the clay into another vessel.
As it seemed good to the potter to do.
He shapes us with his loving pestle.
The many unworthy and the worthy few.
Of course we are no more than clay.
Worked by someone else.
We are just a passing instant in the sun’s ray.
No more and no less.
But this clay is unique and loved.
And never abandoned, beloved.
……
We are potter’s clay
Reworked by the holy hand
But a loving hand
…….
See Jeremiah 18: 1-6
























