Category Archives: Pottery

When the Flood Waters Recede


Posted by Renae

Last week I mentioned looking for some motivation. Well, it came yesterday. It wasn’t a glorious light shining in my window, or a jazzy song giving me rhythm. It was a flood.

Drizzling rain was all that remained of the crashing storm the night before. While making waffles, the power snapped off. Then I glanced in the garage. Water flowed freely. I froze. My husband ran. His yell awakened me, “Call [our neighbor] to help me sandbag!” Bug shouted, “Mom, it’s coming into the house! Get a towel.” “A towel isn’t going to help,” I replied flatly. And it didn’t. Within minutes our moat/entryway was full.

I sloshed around moving the computer, baskets, and National Geographic magazines out of the shallow pond. Bug sprang out to help his dad, and Sunshine and Sweet Pea grabbed the laundry basket. Their boat sank, so they splashed and squealed.

Anxiety invigorated me. We battled the elements to save our house. The whole family worked together. The little girls watched with wide eyes and cheered us on. We filled plastic bags with dirt. Then the hole from my husband’s effort began to divert the water. He pawed out a trench. The river flowed in its new course. We swept water and opened all the doors. The breeze blew and motivation was thrust upon me.

Making Pottery

Cleaning the garage has been on the to-do list for months. The piles overwhelmed me: stuff to give away, broken stuff, memorabilia stuff, homeschool stuff, crafty stuff, tool stuff, and lots of garbage. Since I didn’t know where to start, I didn’t. Now the garage is almost clean. The doors of the storage cupboards shut. The laundry area is neat. The homeschool supplies are easy to locate. And there is lots of room for a pottery studio. I’ll be working in the midst of the lawnmower and dirty towels, but I’ll be working.


Provision


Posted by Renae

The anniversary of the dreadful day has passed. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since my husband lost his job. We struggle with the temporary solution. My husband works during the week. I clean houses on weekends. I grow weary of the toil, but my hope is in God. His love does not disappoint. We see his provision.

Boats Inside the Bar by Winslow Homer
Boats Inside the Bar by Winslow Homer

Almost immediately after my tears dried, a neighbor called, “I don’t know if you’re interested, but my friend is looking for a housekeeper.” Astonished, I replied, “Well, actually…”The next week I helped a marvelous lady prepare an estate sale. She showered me with encouragement while we sorted and cleaned.

My husband worked anytime he had the opportunity, which, thankfully, was often.

When I peer through the turmoil and stress, there are blessings to remember.

  • My son takes piano lessons for half-price.
  • The children have been given clothes and shoes.
  • A neighbor sold us his lawnmower after ours quit.
  • Our church helped us with groceries during the tightest month.
  • Some friends slipped us a check for the exact amount of a car repair.

During this arduous time, I was also given a kiln. A couple weeks ago, my husband brought home something for me wrapped in an unobtrusive plastic bag. I set it aside thinking it was magazines from a friend. It was from my friend, but it was full of pottery books! Books that include information I need to set up my studio. A precious reminder that someone loves me and is working on my behalf.

I often forget that I am not the one in control. I want to fix everything, but I can’t. I am not the anchor in the midst of stormy seas. As my husband and I grasp the solid anchor of Providence, peace washes over us with the waves. We will survive the storm and gain strength needed to reach the harbor.

We exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts…Romans 3:3-5


In Which I Justify My Purchase


Posted by Renae

I am cheap thrifty. Always have been. But when my husband lost his job way back in May, I wondered if my frugality would be enough of a contribution to the family finances. Thankfully, temporary work, a few cleaning jobs, and providential gifts from friends bumped us along until my husband found a full-time job.

The bills are paid on time, but we still do not have extra money for frivolity. So why did my husband agree to buy me a potter’s wheel?

The Beginning, December 2007

The First Pot, December 2007

  • My kiln is empty.
  • It was an excellent deal.
  • Because of the price, it can be sold without a loss.
  • It is a tool that will last many years.
  • The possibilities are undeniable.

This gift is an investment in me. My dreams are valuable, and one that laid dormant for years is beginning to take shape.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father… James 1:17

Update: I am cheap and stubborn. Gathering laundry this afternoon, my lower back wrenched in agonizing pain. Because this is a new experience, I attribute it to working on pottery even though I knew the table was not high enough. Usually, my determination pays off, but not this time. Walking, laying, and sitting are tolerable, but bending is beyond my pain tolerance. Hopefully, I can add patience to my list of characteristics before I kill myself.


The Gift of a Dream


Posted by Renae

Making Pottery in Jamestown

I danced hysterically around the kitchen. As tears began to trickle down my face, my son wondered if I was having a heart attack. For over ten years I have longed for a pottery studio. When the phone rang Friday night my dream started to become a reality. A dear lady gave me an electric kiln.

Trying to regulate my breathing, I sprang to the computer to search for a used potter’s wheel. Within minutes I found a small tabletop model listed that very day. After reading reviews of the Artista wheel, I decided it would suit my needs. Without so much as a sales pitch, my husband consented,

I want you to get back into pottery.

Saturday morning even the neighbor kids sensed my mental frenzy as we left for Dallas to pick up my early Christmas present. I am still bustling. My potter’s wheel is ready for use and my kiln will be moved here next weekend.

So many year ago, my pottery teacher said,

The mud will get into your blood.

The mud in my veins is diluted, but the muscle memory will return as soon as I get my hands into some pliant clay.