Restless Vessel

I'm here in Your hands, restless and fidgeting. Like the little child who's been told it will be three whole hours till the parade.

You press and mold - slowly, too slowly. I squirm in impatience.

Contorting myself to some vain imagination, I leap up to present myself for inspection. Surely, this is what You were after. But it's a long, fast fall from the Potter's wheel to the floor, and I ache from the impact.

Gently, You gather me back up and calmly resume Your work. I glance around at the other vessels - they look so interesting...so beautiful. I quickly adjust my shape to look more like them. But I am not the Master Artist, and my work looks crude and ugly.

Patiently, You press against the awkward curves, still wet, until they're smoothed again to Your original design. But it takes time...wasted time. The delay seems to bother me more than it bothers You. Eternity has quite an effect on patience, I suppose.

We continue on like this: You, tenderly shaping, while I wrestle against Your hold. Are we finished yet? I want to see the end result! Isn't there a mirror around here anywhere?

It's then that I hear the song. A sweet, simple melody. I search for moment to find its source, and stare in amazement when I realize that it's You. Have You always hummed while You work? I'd never stilled to notice before. It's calming and pleasant, and I settle into Your grasp, mesmerized by the sound.

I rest - soothed by Your touch, lulled by Your voice. And as I rest, listening, a subtle but beautiful shape begins to take form between Your hands. Understanding begins to dawn - what I should have known from the start: Yours is the shaping; mine is the listening. And to rush the process is only to damage the vessel.

Lord, make me still.