Handmade

Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter;
 we are all the work of your hand.

Isaiah 64:8

Today is the first Sunday of 2021. Most will be reflecting on what happened in 2020 and what 2021 will bring. We tend to focus on what goals we want to set like losing weight or changing a bad habit or improving our finances. We will busy ourselves with cleaning up from the holidays and removing decorations. We will hear comments like “time is moving so fast”. In the wake of the change of the year, we need to slow down and think about ourselves because we aren’t machines but wonderfully created beings that God molded with His very own hands. Take a look at your hands. What will your hands be doing this next year? Will they work? Will they help? Will they be idle?

One of the things I busy my hands with is writing. Here’s a poem you can reflect on. I wrote it for one our church’s tea parties. My granddaughters loved to go with me. At one party, Alysia asked if she could read the poem. She did a fantastic job of reading it. It’s all about taking advantage of the opportunity. I could have said no, that’s for an adult to do, but saying yes gave her the chance to gain confidence in speaking in front of people. This past year, she entered her local Miss Jubilee Days pageant. She sang for her talent which was difficult for a thirteen year old. Confidence in hand, she won the contest and title of Princess of Jubilee Days!

Take 2021 into your hands and embrace the opportunities you are given. It’s another new year to take God’s hand and let Him guide you into the successes He has planned for you.

Intricately built
Like the stitches in a quilt

Your hands and mine
Every wrinkle and line

Are tools for loving, giving, and hoping
Wringing and shaking when coping

To lift in praise
Through all of our days

They are a thing of beauty
Especially when God guides them to do their duty

They carry out a surgeon’s decision
When they make each incision

They hold little ones
Daughters and sons

They let go
So the little ones can grow

They fold to pray
And hold to play

They write a story
To tell of His Glory

Just as there are hands there are feet
Pitter, patter is their beat

They walk and run
Not to be outdone

For service they carry out
Even when there’s doubt

They go off to war
Not knowing what’s in store

Even when they roam
They find the way home

A couple more parts
Are our soul and hearts

They are vessels for emotion
From love to joy to devotion

Tears of sadness and joy they spill
Particularly when we are still

Pieces are molded with care
Each molecule and hair

Uniquely crafted and assembled
The Father we resembled

Then washed in the living water
All handmade by the Potter

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