The Potter’s Hands

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

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