A Lowly Lump of Clay

I was frightened to the core last night.

Thomas, after having been up in bed for an hour, padded down the stairs looking a little pale in his soft jammies.

"Mama, come see!  On my bed...come see!  So yucky, you can't TOUCH it!  So yucky!  Come see!"

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was talking about so I scooped him up and we went upstairs together.  As we reached his room, he wriggled out of my arms so he could dash ahead of me into his room.  Thomas snapped on the light and climbed up to his bed and pointed at the offending "yucky" on his bed.

I gasped in horror.

There on his bed, were 5 little plastic round toys -- just slightly bigger than marbles, about an inch in diameter each.  They sat on Thomas' bed in a smelly puddle of vomit.

It was clear what had happened even before Thomas rushed to explain what I was seeing.

"I had them in my mouth, Mama.  ALL of them in my mouth, and my cheeks went like this (as he puffed out his cheeks like a little blow-fish).  And then, they all came out with the yucky stuff.  SO yucky, Mama.  You can't touch it!"

My mind was a whirlwind of anger....scolding him for putting things in his mouth....and of thanksgiving....thank you Lord for protecting him....and of terror....we would have just found him lying in his bed in the morning....he would have just been here all night long all by himself....and of panic....I simply can not protect these children, no matter how hard I try.

My night was one of restless nightmares and trying to control my thoughts from headed down the dreaded "what if" path.  Taking my thoughts captive after something like that is harder than normal!

I turned to the Word this morning for a bit of encouragement and perspective.  After all, I know that our days are numbered even before our birth.  When it comes to ME, I'm just fine with that truth.  But my children?  I'm okay with that truth....just as long as their number comes up sometime AFTER mine does!

But who am I to hold on to that sort of control?  Who am I to turn to the LORD and declare that it will be fine, and good, and He will be called loving....only as long as things go the way I think they should?

Yes, my heart was primarily thankful and awe-struck last night as I realized just what sort of holy ground my life is....ground made holy by God Almighty Himself stepping daily in and around my life and keeping His mighty wing of love and protection over me and my family.  Breathtaking.

And yet, in His loving and gentle way, He brought me to my knees before Him as He showed me my heart of sin.

"Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker -

An earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth!

Will the clay say to the potter, 'What are you doing?'"

Isaiah 45:9

I am that earthenware vessel....that lump of clay in the Master Potter's hand. Who am I to question His methods?  His vision?

He's been lovingly and gently shaping me into the perfect vessel.  But what if this clay gets a bit tough....will He add water to soften me....making me feel a bit like I'm drowning, but then revealing the beauty at the very last moment?  Or will He simply smash the vessel that's distorted because of the tough clay in order to start again?

Or will He create a simple humble pot, when I desire a thing of beauty instead?

Or...will He create what seems a perfect, delicate, beautiful vessel to contain His Holy Spirit....only to smash and crack it so that the Spirit can more easily seep into the world though the cracks?

I won't lie.  It's scary to think about.

It's scary in part because I've seen Him work in other people's lives....in ways that I fear would destroy me.

At the end of the day though, I have to rely on who I know Jesus to be.  He is the lover of my soul.  He is a warrior for my salvation.  He endured the impossible because of His love for me.  He sustained those people who I expected to be crushed under His hand.

He protected my little boy last night.

And so I sit here a lowly lump of clay in my Loving Potter's hands.

Lord, make my life a thing of beauty in Your sight.

And Lord....thank you for your grace and mercy last night and each night.  Thank you for loving this silly little lump of clay.

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God is in the Thomas-isms

This little boy keeps me on my toes.  I'm continually amazed by the words that come out of my mouth when I'm interacting with him....a small sampling (just from today):

"Thomas, please take your dirty toes out of your mouth"

"Why?"

"Because your toes have dirt and germs on them.  Don't put them in your mouth."

"Why?"

"Dirt and germs can make you sick and your Mama thinks it's icky.  Please.  Just take the toes out of your mouth!"

"I wub my tosies!" (in a slightly offended tone)

"I love your toes to, buddy, but they still don't go in your mouth."

"Mama.  You 'atend you in da office and I in the pway-woom." (pretend you're in the office and I'm in the play room)

"Why?  So that you can pretend I'm not telling you to take your toes out of your mouth?"

"Yeah."

How am I having this conversation?!

Sometimes it's not nearly as detailed an interaction. Sometimes it's as simple as "Make sure that thing is pointing DOWN when you pee!"

Or, a conversation that I have often....a tidbit from about 20 minutes ago:

I heard Thomas telling Sammy "Heeelp!  Get Mama for me!"

I walked in the living room to find him with his head stuck in a strange place between the seat of the glider and it's metal frame.  I helped him get his noggin loose and then said,

"Thomas, do not put your head in strange holes okay?  It's just not safe!  In fact, as a general rule in life, keep your head out of holes as much as possible."

"Much a pow-i-bow?"

"Yes, as much as possible."

"Ok Mama"

Seriously.  "Don't put your head/foot/finger/arm/toy in that hole" would have made me a wealthy woman if nickels fell from the sky every time I said them!

And every now and then, I hear God chuckling with me and responding with his own "Yeah!  That goes for you too, Daiquiri!" just as I heard today at lunch time.

Goldfish crackers.  Sliced up hotdog.  A bowl of pineapple.  Milk with some chocolate sprinkled in it, and served in a cup with a lid and straw....just how he likes it.  Barney singing on the TV in the background.

Thomas saw those hot dogs and went right to town -- loaded his fork all the way up.

"I eat ALL my hog-gogs, Mama!"

"Okay, that's good!  Wait....eat them one at a time though."

"NO!  I eat dem ALL!", as he continued to skewer those sad little circles of meat.

"No, sweetie.  You sure CAN eat all of your hot dog, but putting them all in your mouth at the same time is not a good idea.  You'll choke!  Please eat them one piece at a time."

"Awwww.  Mama, you make me so MAD!"

"Hey..."

"Okay Mama", as he plucked the pieces from his fork and deposited them back on his plate.

It was one of those "Yeah, you too" moments from Heaven.

Do you ever feel like you're that little boy, excitedly trying to do everything ALL at ONCE?  I do!  And some days I lie in bed in the morning and am positively overwhelmed by what my day holds.  Or I find myself wandering around the house gathering up the clutter with one hand, checking messages on my phone with the other, and shouting nuggets of motherly wisdom over my shoulder to my bickering kids.  All the while, my metal to-do list is running through my head and I'm feeling like I just might choke.

I love my life, don't get me wrong.  I'm living the dream!  Wife, mom, friend, sister, daughter, homemaker, writer, business woman.  I truly love my life.

It's just that I feel like I'm often the kid who's enthusiastically tackling EVERY SINGLE thing I have going on all at the same time.  I need to slow down.  Sure, I certainly can have it all....I just need to do it bite by little bite!  I CAN have it all, just not all at the same time.

God speaks to us in so many little ways if we're just listening.  Today, it's "slow down, do your day piece by piece, and enjoy the meal."

Who knows, tomorrow it might be "Daiquiri, get your head out of that strange hole" ;-)

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