I’d had the same song on repeat for a week and it was now playing again. I was putting on makeup when I found the first tears streaming down my face. I looked in the mirror somewhat annoyed at the delay in getting ready for my day, but as I stared at my reflection, more tears came. My ugly cry surfacing faster than I was ready for. These were deep tears. Tears from places in my heart I didn’t know needed seen and heard and brought to the surface. They were from deep places. There was nothing wrong, these were actually tears of joy, a deeply seeded confident expectation of God’s good to come and my hope had been right all along, though small in comparison to what He was whispering now.
I quickly saw a picture of my heart like clay in the potters hands and within seconds, less than that, I felt the overwhelming confidence that what the Potter was molding was going to be more beautiful than I could have asked. What I had only imagined, dared to dream, hoped for, was not even close to what He was going to do and create. His overwhelming love was so evident, so steady, so joy-filled in every move. Each cut, each point of pressure so intentional.
How had He done it? How had He known the timing and orchestrated so many moving pieces to mold it all so beautifully?
It was the picture of His hands that brought those deep tears. The faithfulness of His care. The tender encouragement through all the days, weeks, months and even years of not understanding His ways or His timing. His steady hands through my days of doubting. His firm hands in my days of fighting. I knew He was telling me answers were coming that I had long awaited, but the answers seemed to pail in comparison to the desire for a longer glimpse of this part of His heart.
The depth, the width, the surprises, the miracles, the strength, His long-way-round producing more fruit than I would ever have dared to ask for, the desert-days that I could not have walked alone – yes, His heart was so real and His love so evident like I hadn’t seemed to see in some time. It was just a glimpse, but it was beckoning me deeper.
While my hands still looked empty from the outside, or at least not holding what I thought, they were far from it. My hands were safely tucked in His own. Held by this love – this place I never wanted to leave – so rich, and every fear crushed in His perfect love.
Those tears were like water He was using to soften parts of hardened clay, to mold it so much easier. Yes, it was all going to be so much sweeter than I could have imagined – even the hard places.
Life was as it should be – my heart so content here. As long as I could see Him and see that I was indeed held by Him. Oh if I could find my way back to this Potter’s wheel every day.