The Potter's Hands (written 11-19-99)

The potter's hands worked dilegently,
Continuous, consistently,

      To shape the clay that lay upon His wheel.

Difficult though the vessel was,
He never once gave up his cause,

      Determined to see completion thus fulfilled.

I saw tears forming in His eyes
And wondered why the Creator cried

      Until I saw the broken pieces in His hand.

As I watched him set them down,
I was stunned at what I found,

      Those pieces were the spirit of a man...

So ravaged by the effects of abuse,
Neglected, beaten, despised, misused,

      The world left barely anything at all;

Yet somewhere between sorrow and grief
Lay a strength beyond belief
And as deep calls out to deep

      In the rush of a waterfall,

So called the man in desperate need,
God's love began to intercede
And...
          God the shaper and the potter sat at his wheel.

This man's soul was turned to dust
But somehow he continued to trust

            Never doubting God's ability to heal.

As the tears fell from the Potter's eyes
Upon that which was so parched and dry

      The dust began to take another form.

In the Potter's hands this form took shape,
I watched God working to create

      From a spirit, shattered by the sorrow he had worn

A man of God- completed
Through God's love now undefeated,

   Mended as though he never had been torn.

By Kim DuBose

A person cannot let go of the past until he or she knows there is something tangible to reach for.