Sitting on my kitchen counter is a very special cracked pot.
Actually, it's a cracked bowl but call it what you want, it's a gift from a renowned potter, and it fills a special place in my life. Here's the background.
I once spoke at a women's retreat, a privilege I treasured. The theme of the weekend gathering was The Potter and the Clay, and included in the group of attendees was a skilled potter who enhanced the presentations with demonstrations of her art.
For example, as I spoke about the process involved in working the clay in order to remove air bubbles, she showed us how it was done. She explained the methodology involved in firing and glazing the vessels she had created. I believe that everyone present gained as much benefit from her explanations as from mine; I certainly haven't forgotten them.
In a final gesture of generosity, this potter had various pieces available as gifts – one piece for each participant. I looked them over carefully, and then deliberately chose a large and very beautiful bowl that was partially split down one side. Though it will never be suitable for use as a soup tureen or as a punch bowl container, it's perfect for holding fruit and vegetables.
Nothing else in my kitchen will ever merit the place held by this vessel of honour. I don't care that it isn't perfect; it's chosen.
If you're like me, there are days when even being "the work of His hands" doesn't quite dismiss our disappointment over the cracks we see in our lives. How wonderful to know that God sees things differently. I don't have to be perfect, just available.
"Yet, O Lord, You are our Father; we are the clay, and You our Potter, and we all are the work of Your hand." (Isaiah 64:8).