There is something about clay that it reaches us somewhere deep inside. When we touch it, roll out a snake, or smash it, we feel like a kid again. For most kids even playing in mud, digging on the beach, or walking barefoot in gooey mud brings out a feeling of connection with the earth. It seems that it is somewhat therapeutic for most. I've observed many adults that fiddle with clay for the first time since their childhood are happy and start talking, relaxing, and kind of doodle with the cool clay. I am always drawn back to Genesis 2:7 "the Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and the man became a living being." I cant quite put to words what happens when I sit quietly and create from such a crude medium. I think often of our Creator and the amazing world around us and how life was breathed into us. It is beyond understanding. Creating with my hands has always brought me closer to the mind of God. I realize how feeble my hands are and I am amazed at what actually does come from them. Clay teaches me much. It can be unruly, dry, too wet, have sharp objects in it, blow up in the kiln, dry too fast and break before it is ever completed. Yet, the finished pieces are so warm and alive even if there isn't much form to them. I was reminded of this as my daughter made one her clay pots with owls on them. She is pretty industrious and likes to sell them and has some buyers waiting for them. The past few weeks she became hurried and her pots got bigger and bigger and as they did they became unruly. One in particular got way out of shape and began to collapse. Even her owls were too large and were weighing down the top. She used big coils of clay and wanted to create things quickly so she could make her quota. As this particular pot became her enemy she grumped off, told me she hated it and wanted to smash it. It had gotten away from her and the clay was taunting her, making her a frustrated failure. She had lost control of her creative idea and wanted to walk away from it. Now, I also know that feeling and there are many projects that are just better off smashed and put back into the bag for another attempt at another form. But, I could see the good things in her pot. I knew her challenge was building the walls too quickly without a firm foundation or form. Also, the focal point on top was way too heavy for the coils beneath. They were killing their own base. So, I told Linnea to get a bowl the size of her flopping pot, set the pot in the bowl, smooth out the inside and shore up those fat owls, trim their feathers a bit and give them a branch to hold on to. Basically,get every part strong with a shape or boundary to cling to. It worked, and she was so happy that she exclaimed for days that it was her most favorite piece yet. She kept telling me how much she liked that one. It was a problem solved, a happy result and a lesson learned. I've thought often of that whole episode as I see the pot waiting to be fired. Sometimes the heavies on top get too burdensome and everything suffers. The foundation just needs some shoring up, some smoothing out, some loving touches, and the ones on top need a trim or a pruning and a branch to hold on to. What ever the heavies are be they people or problems or both, they can seem to collapse us if we rush to get things solved. Rushing to see the end of a project whether it be the life long project of raising kids, working through life's ups and downs, or just making a project around the house, only causes a frustrating mess. Every good thing takes time, a plan, loving hands, support, the proper balance of authority (those owls!) and then the finished work pleases everyone-especially the Creator.
