Simply a beautiful poem!
for: common use
from: uncommon hands
What are You making?
the first question I thought to ask
when I raised my eyes from the maddening blur around me
and noticed the strong hands that were shaping me so gently
These eyes have not been completely formed yet
I strive to keep them fixed on You
but my periphery is filled with so many indistinct images...
I want to clutch at them
but, as yet, do not have hands to reach
If I caught hold of them, what would I do with them anyway?
Only You can open my eyes
to the means behind these ends
Yet I cannot help but wonder,
as they pass me again and again,
are they mere wishful contrivances,
these vague reeling visions,
or will they help shape my earthenware horizons?
The questions fill my clay-for-brains
and I long to ask You again
It takes every bit of strength You have built within me
to let go of the desire
to see my entirety (just a glimpse?)
But the whirring of the wheel and the nearness of Your hands
gives me assurance,
knowing that You are still at work
in the midst of the blur
(for I still need work)
Your creativity astounds me
You pulled me out of the mold
(sweet rescue)
and placed me on Your wheel
Please, if You will,
leave a few fingerprints...
I want every contour to reflect Your workmanship
I glory in being Your brainchild,
You whose hands are creativity in flesh...
I love to feel them shaping me,
knowing that Your model is a looking glass reflection of You
This hollow You are creating within me,
pray shape it such
that only You can fill it...
I long to be filled with Your divine energy
so that I might share it
with all the other earthenware vessels that surround
Please shape my small hands
to serve in a humble way
For I know that You have prepared my place
amongst the common clay creations
All I am is what Your hands have made me
and that is all I ever want to be
Filling in the blur,
Your tender hands give definition
to my nondescript future self
I clutch this dream in my still-forming mind
that one sweet day,
You will give the great wheel one final spin
and I'll find that the half-formed appendages
You have toiled over so long
have become my wings
And I'll fly away (o glory)
I'll fly away
And on that day, I will have my answer
when You place me before Your looking glass
and the work of Your hands meets my clear vision...
I will see no trace of the mere dust and water
that You originally lifted to Your wheel
These elements of earth will be transformed
into a one of a kind piece of heavenware,
every contour bearing my Potter's mark.
["Does not the Potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" ~ Romans 9:21]
http://www.unc.edu/~hastack/offerings.html