“…We’re the clay and you’re our potter.…” – Isaiah 64:8

   If you drove through Leesburg, VA and continued through the endless emerald hills of Virginia, you might stumble upon an unpaved lane. One lined with fenced fields and speckled with trees. You might see an inviting blue home with a quaint white barn nestled beside. Chickens might run across the path and donkeys may bay in the distance. If you stumble into this story book setting you might have arrived at the picturesque home White Hearth Pottery.

    My Valentine gifted me with private workshop here and after easily convincing a few friends to join, we arrived and were instantly speechless. The barn was a haven. Every corner intentionally created to aid Talia in her artistic flow. A step by step system of creating and finishing unique pieces of pottery. 

    Eager to begin our own artistic process we settled down outside and began by blankly staring at the dirt that would, hopefully (fingers crossed), be transformed into something beautiful.

    The clay laying there was plain. A plain table and blank clay. Blank eyes stared and began forming with intention and also forming made up things that we named after they were “finished”. With the sun shining, carpenter bees buzzing, and birds serenading, we let go of the pressured “expectations” to create perfection. Let go, and instead embraced the messy beauty of creating for joy. 

Just Joy.

    Next to us a Potters wheel beckoned. A simple wooden chair stood watch and an old flowered room divider guarded both. Remnants of the Potters work marked the creative corner. A mess covered table, ready to spin, waiting to be used.

A ball of red clay was tossed in the middle, and each of us looked on as our teacher explained.

“Before you start you have to center”

Centering.

The process of preparing the clay so it is ready to be formed.

Before the molding takes place, before the shape comes to life. A step the Potter takes to ensure each piece is prepared to hold even form and survive the kiln. Ensuring the clay is directly in the middle of His wheel so it will endure the movement thats coming.

    Bracing elbow to knee, and dipping my hands in the nearby bucket of water, I embrace the clay. My right toe presses and as the peddle sinks the wheel begins to turn.

“Hold steady, you don’t have to move, the clay will move with you.”

Resisting the urge to chase clay, Talia teaches us to slowly bring the clay up into a cone shape, then back down to its starting shape.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

“Ok, that looks centered. What do you want to make?”

Water drips off my messy hands, hands that ,today, look like my Heavenly Fathers.

This place, this creative corner, is one He is endeared to.

It is a space He and I frequent.

A space He loves to meet.

The wheel His workspace, the tools His hands.

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His creative process pressing form into the fabric of my soul.

Ridding my substance of debris that would hinder His design.

His hands never waiver.

They never shake.

They never rush.

Perfect pressure, that surrounds all sides of my messy heart.

Water on the dry places, readying the walls for the push and pulls .

Every rotation a rhythmic dance.

Outward movement slowing to a crawl.

Inward form, taking shape.

Pressed between the unmoving love of my Fathers hands.

The rush to “become”, to exit the kiln a finished piece, rushes out.

Surrendered to His, plans, His movement, His ways.

Center me Father.

Center me and take Your time.

Center me in Your will.

Center me in Your gaze.

Forgive this clay for rushing to exit this place.

One thing I ask, that I may communion with the Potter all my days.

Moving to His rhythm, Centered in His grace.