I am the Clay

Isaiah 45 was today's passage and this is one of my favorite verses because I couldn't fully convey the number of times I have argued with God about the way he made me. It says:

Does a clay pot dare argue with its maker, a pot that is like all the others? Does the clay ask the potter what he is doing? Does the pot complain that its maker has no skill? Do we dare say to our parents, "Why did you make me like this?" The LORD, the holy God of Israel, the one who shapes the future, says: "You have no right to question me about my children or to tell me what I ought to do! I am the one who made the earth and created human beings to live there. By my power I stretched out the heavens; I control the sun, the moon, and the stars.
(Isa 45:9-12)

Why God? Why couldn't you make me stronger? Why am I so emotional? Why am I weak? I should be able to just handle this or endure that. You could have made me anyone or anything. Why did you make me the way you did?

With all the work I have done with clay, I know the amount of thought and planning that goes into making even just a simple figure. I use wire as an inner frame work that supports my figures. While I'm baking them I careful construct props that will hold them in the way I made them through the firing process. I always have in mind what I am going to make before I even pull out my art supplies.

How much more thought did God put into making me? He must have had a plan. A purpose. A reason. I heard people say that they never should have been born. That it would have been better for their parents to have an abortion. As if the decision is their's alone. God had a plan. A reason. A purpose... for each person that was and is and will ever be conceived. All we have to do is believe that and get it deep down in our hearts. So we can BE that person he created us to be.

To Write Love On Her Arm

Tonight I joined thousands of people across the world who are writing love on the arms of people who desperately need to know, deep down, that they are loved. Last night my husband wrote LOVE on my arm and tonight we drove across the county to write LOVE on my nieces arms so that tomorrow at school they could celebrate the event and pass it on. Some people struggle so hard to love themselves. I know because I am one of those people. TWLOHA exists to reach out to those who struggle with depression, self injury and suicide. As most of you know my life has been greatly touched by depression and suicide. So tomorrow, please, pick up a sharpie and write LOVE on your arm in recognition of the event. Then write it on someone who really needs to know.