You are the potter…I am the clay.
Your strong, capable…ever gentle hands
surround my very being.
They smooth; they rub.
They shape me into who You want me to be.
Sometimes it hurts.
I long to ease the pain.
But I look up through my tears…
and I praise You, my Creator,
for Your hands are ever on me.
I’m not alone.
And there’s no place I’d rather be.
By Jessica Yoder