Porcelain

We are born eggshell-porcelain: unblemished, innocent, and ready for the world.

We are a gathering of clay and earth-material brought to intense heat creating something amazing.

Us.

Porcelain.

We are porcelain; contrasting our solid and tough exteriors for the glassy and liquid translucence that exist just under the surface. There is a paradox at play; the physical hardness to serve and the fragile truth that we can be chipped away, fractured, and broken.

I’ve seen beautiful porcelain in display cases. The regal stillness of plates, cups, gravy boats, saucers, and teapots. Naïvely, silently waiting for the time they will be used.  Waiting. Waiting… So innocent, with no idea how harsh the world is outside of that sanctuary.

We are all waiting. Some are praying. Waiting for the moment, a meaningful catalyst. The day God brings our purpose into the light. The day we will finally be put to important use.

In display cases, the plates all look the same. Dainty cups are lined up, with handles facing the same direction. Saucers stacked in quiet strength.

Symmetry.

Perfection.

Sameness.

The day we move beyond safe confines of the display case is the day we need grace. Because our perfectness is about to be tested. Our smooth exterior will begin to etch, scar, pockmark as we come into contact with the world. People, places, events will leave impressions. Periods of intense use are certain to change us.

In a china-hutch, for some reason, only the perfect and nearly unused are displayed. I have yet to see a showy arrangement of rust-stained plates, a teapot with a missing spout, a saucer broken in half. But I think, if I did see such a thing, it would be beautiful.

Each of us, porcelain out of the case, is getting weathered. Some still appear whole, but if you look more closely, you’ll see the fine fractures. And eventually, overtime, a day will come and most of us break. Something tragic happens, and we smashed into pieces. Once so perfect and flawless, and now we find ourselves useless-bits of what we once were.

But don’t forget—there is grace.

Grace is the mortar that makes beautiful mosaics of our lives. As mosaics we are repurposed…for glory. A shadow of our symmetry, perfection, and sameness—but now we are interesting, eye-catching, original, and individual. No two mosaics are the same. Each looks unique and has its own story.

So the next time you think see a broken un-perfect soul—hold your thoughts—hold your tongue—they are waiting for grace to become a mosaic. Could you the first bit of grace they will encounter?

When you happenstance that person that doesn’t look like you—you know the one, with rainbows in their hair, different skin color, tattoos, strange clothes—pend your judgment. Maybe they are already God’s mosaic, mortared with endless amounts of grace.

Nothing could be more beautiful.

Never forget, we are cast of the same clay, we sat in the safe display case together. But over the years, some of us—sooner than others, turn into mosaics. There is a foundation of grace that must exist—it lets the shattered pick up the broken-bits of their lives and rearrange them back together.

Nothing could be more beautiful.

Maybe you are shattered, broken, or feeling useless. But there is grace—amazing grace turning us into splendid one-of-a-kind mosaics. Cast the shame of not being a perfect plate. Instead, know that you still ARE that perfect (rearranged) plate—don’t let anyone tell you different. You have a story and if you’re brave enough, scoop up mounds of grace so you’ll be able to display something with glory that no one else can.

Nothing could be more beautiful.

We are beautiful porcelain mosaics.

Copyright © 2009- 2011 Sherry Meneley . All Rights Reserved . soiledwings.com . sherrymeneley.com . soiled wings

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