Beautiful

Hazel dropped her backpack by the door and trotted out to the garage to find Mom, clad in jeans and an old T-shirt, sitting at her potter's wheel. As she watched, her mom wet her hands, placed her thumbs near the center of the lump of clay, and pressed downward as it spun on the wheel. Before her eyes, the mass of clay became hollow, narrowed, and grew in height. "How was your day at school?" asked Mom.Hazel thought a moment before answering. "It was all right, I guess. My classes were fine, but some of my friends teased me because I'm the shortest."Moving her hands to the outside of the lump of clay, Mom applied a bit of pressure to the sides of her vessel as it spun on the pottery wheel, making the clay elongate dramatically and grow taller. "That wasn't very nice of them."Hazel sighed. "Yeah, well, I wish I was taller, but there's nothing I can do about it."Mom continued to gently push the sides of clay inward, making them rise even higher. Suddenly, the hollow column of clay that was forming bent over to the side and collapsed. "Oh no!" exclaimed Hazel. "Your vase is ruined! It can't hold any flowers now. It's all bent."To her surprise, Mom replied, "Who said it was a vase?"Looking confused, Hazel asked, "Well, what is it then? It can't be much good like that.""No?" asked Mom. "You can't see what I see because you're comparing it to what you think pottery should look like. But I see it in light of the purpose I designed it for, and I say it's perfect. And since I'm the one who created it, my opinion is the only one that counts.""Okay," said Hazel. "So what is it?""It's a metaphor," said Mom. "For my daughter. To show her how God sees her, and that His opinion is the only one that counts."Hazel rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mom, I get it. Your sculpture is beautiful because you created it, just like I'm beautiful, and the perfect height, because God created me. You don't have to hit me over the head with it."Mom smiled. "Sometimes I do." - Kelsie Ingham