In God's Hands

There was a couple who used to go England to shop in a beautiful antique store. This trip was to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. They both liked antiques and pottery, and especially tea cups. Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked, "May we see that? We've never seen a cup quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the tea cup spoke, "You don't understand," it said. "I have not always been a tea cup. There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay. My master took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over, and I yelled out, 'Don't do that. I don't like it! Let me alone,' but he only smiled, and gently said, 'Not yet!'

Then... WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. 'Stop it! I'm getting so dizzy! I'm going to be sick!' I screamed. But the master only nodded and quietly said, 'Not yet.' He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself and then... then he put me in the oven.

I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door. 'Help! Get me out of here!' I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook His head from side to side, 'Not yet.' "When I thought I couldn't bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool.

Oh, that felt so good! Ah, this is much better, I thought. "But, after I cooled, he picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Oh, please, stop it, stop it!!' I cried. He only shook his head and said, 'Not yet!'

Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven. Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up. Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited... and waited... wondering, What's he going to do to me next? !"

An hour later he handed me a mirror and said, 'Look at yourself.' And I did.

"I said, 'That's not me. That couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful!'

Quietly he spoke: 'I want you to remember back to the beginning,' he said, 'I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted but, had I just left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel but, if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurt, and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven but, if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over but, if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any color in your life. If I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't have survived for long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you.'"

The moral of this story is this: God knows what He is doing with each of us. He is the Potter, and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, and expose us to just enough pressures - of just the right kinds - so that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect will.

So... when life seems hard, and you are being pounded and patted and pushed almost beyond endurance; when your world seems to be spinning out of control; when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials; when life seems to "stink", try this... brew a cup of your favorite tea in your nicest tea cup, sit down, and think of this story. Then have a talk with the Potter.

Author Unknown

I received this one in an email and thought it was cute enough to share here.  The name of the author was not listed with the story, so if you know who wrote it, I'd be glad to give that person the credit deserved.

My husband and I had been happily (most of the time) married for five
years but hadn't been blessed with a baby. I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a
perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with his word as
my guide.

God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son. The next year God
blessed us with another son. The following year, he blessed us with yet
another son. The year after that we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four
children, and the oldest was only four years old. I learned never to ask
God f or any thing unless I meant it. As a minister once told me, "If you
pray for rain, make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as
they lay in their cribs. I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me
with four children and I didn't want to disappoint him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the
kitchen floor searching for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding when they started a hotel for homeless frogs
in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to catch all
twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a
blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess. In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand
diapers, never eating a hot meal and never sleeping for more than thirty
minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promise to be a perfect mother - I didn't even
come close - I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God. I
knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were
going to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap
along to "wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us
everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give us
his "last wife."

My proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant. My
daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest
son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe
wrapped in swaddling clothes." But he was nervous and said, "The baby was
wrapped in wrinkled clothes." My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not
'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped
by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing. I slouched a
little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby
Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying, "Mama-mama." Mary grabbed
the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived..

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt
at the manger and announced, "We are the three wise men, and we are
bringing gifts of gold, common sense and fur."

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing
ovation. "I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one,"
laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes. "For the rest of my life,
I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common
sense and fur."

"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing, " I said as
I dug through my purse for an aspirin.

Proverbs 22:6  Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.