Words

The last couple of months, all I seem to be doing is crying. Since March a number of things have happened in my life that have unsettled me.

My youngest sister’s died, knocking my legs from under me, my son suddenly and without much notice, moved clear across the country to New York state, an event that was tantamount to a gut-punch,

Then, amid several hiring refusals following lengthy job interviews, my third grade teacher’s death happened. And then learning of the passing of one of my high school teachers has rocked my foundation — and I found myself crumbling.

Without thought, I wrote about this to my friend’s on Facebook, “I’m ready for a break,” jus’ before that,  “Since I can’t sleep, I was trying to figure out what to do; read, write or stay in bed. I think I’ll cry myself to sleep.”

So I had unwittingly prophesied twice into my life…

Once I figured this out, I couldn’t help but think of the woman the prophet Elisha told that she would have a child. When that child was about 12, he died.

But instead of mourning his death, she rode to ask Elisha to come pray over the boy and resurrect him. However as she galloped across the desert, she was stopped by the Prophet’s assistant who asked her three times if everything was alright.

Each time she answered, “All is well,” instead of saying her son was dead.

She refused to speak something negative, knowing that her words carried life and death in them. Instead, she spoke positively, “All is well,” and through her faith, all was well as her son was raised up from the dead.

Then last night, I cracked (a break) and I literally cried myself to sleep. This is what I call a teachable moment because the time is now, amid our sadness, including mine, to be wise and carefully judge our words, because they, like hers, carry with them the power of life and death.

Having cracked in the middle of the night reminded me of this…

Early, near the turn of the century, I first read the story of ‘The Cracked Pot,’ and how because of its imperfection the water-bearer never returned home with a full allotment of water for the household. And instead of fixing the crack in the pot, the water bearer left it and used it daily to water the side of the trail in which he had planted flowers.

On the other end of the pole the water bearer used to carry water from the well to the house was a perfect pot. It had no flaws in it, thus providing as much water for the house as it was designed.

The moral of the story is that the water bearer (a representation of God) used both the cracked pot and the perfect pot for what they were designed to hold water. However, because God knew the one pot was flawed He used that flaw to build beauty into the world, while the perfect pot did everything it was supposed to do, and nothing more.

This morning, I am still cracked, but I am not broken and the tears I shed last night are God’s to use in His garden and I pray He’s watering you, His flower, today.

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