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The potter
It is written that God created the earth in six days and six nights,
and technically this is true,
but He had actually been thinking about it long before that.
This is the way of creation: like a seed in the ground, a tulip bulb in winter waiting for spring,
creation comes first invisibly and settles quietly in the mind.
It waits there.
And when everything is right, when the heart is open, and the mind free, a thing is made.
In God's case, it was the earth. In the potter's case, it was a bowl.
The potter lives just at the edge of the Heavenly Village.
His name is Thomas.
He has a rather ramshackle little house that he uses for sleeping and eating, but his real
home is his potter's shed in the backyard. Walk in and there is nothing but soft clay dust
everywhere. Everywhere!
A potter's life is a messy one. There is the dust on the shelves, the wet mud on the floor,
the ash of fire, the spill of glaze. Thomas loves music and he's tried three times
to keep a tape player running in his shed. But it always gets clogged up with something.
Thomas is one of God's favorite people in the Heavenly Village.
In fact, God asked Thomas if he would live there as a favor. Imagine God asking a person for
a favor.
But he did.
God has admired the work of Thomas's hands for years. he has watched Thomas from afar,
sitting at his potter's wheel, pulling up a piece of moist clay into some exquisite vase
or bowl or pitcher. God can't believe, sometimes, how similar He and Thomas are.
How careful about the craft. How devoted to creation. God watches Thomas throw a pot
and He wonders if maybe he made the earth a little too fast.
Maybe he should have taken more time. Worked the seventh day and rested the eighth.
God is inspired.
Thomas died when he was twenty-seven. It was a car accident. He hit his head
and in an instant he was flying to heaven. Thomas had a few bowls he'd meant to glaze first,
but other than that it was all right. he didn't mind returning to God.
But this time it was God himself who wasn't so sure.
God who saw Thomas on his way up and who looked behind at Thomas's silent potter's
wheel on earth, at the clutter of creation in Thomas's shed that God had quietly lingered over,
at the row of lovely pitchers just glazed in cobalt blue.
God saw Thomas coming and realized maybe Thomas was ready for a change,
but He wasn't.
He met Thomas at the door. This was unusual for God. Usually He sends a messenger angel
or a loved one to meet a new spirit and welcome him home.
Thomas didn't even get a chance to take has coat off. There was God in all His glory
at heaven's front door. He had one of Thomas's pots in His hands. Thomas thought he'd sold
that pot to a nice young woman at the country fair in Indiana. It just goes to show that God is
everywhere.
God talked to the potter for a long time. He told Thomas how He loved the pureness of clay,
the spell of the weel, the strength and eternalness of the work. He asked if maybe Thomas
could stop in the Heavenly Village. He said that there was a nice little ramshackle house
with a potter's shed at the edge of town. (All of which God had rushed into being when He
saw Thomas flying up.) He asked if Thomas might stay.
Well, who could deny God a favor? of course Thomas said yes. But not just because God
asked. Because Thomas thought it was a good idea. He died young. Maybe, through clay,
he could finish his story.
He opened the door of the ramshackle house and invited God in for tea.
Thomas's favorite time to work has always been during the dark hours past midnight.
Interestingly, this has always been God's favorite time, too. It is well known that when he
began creating the earth, the universe was completely black.
so it probably comes as no surprise that often, about 2 A.M., there is a knock on Thomas's
door. God is thaere, a bit shy about bothering Thomas but wondering if He could step in.
Thomas clears away the dust and offers Him a chair. God sits, with pleasure.
And there they are. The earth is turning below them like a child's favorite marble and stories
are beginning and ending and beginning aii over again.
Above them, stars are burning and a mystery is unfolding in the heavens. angels sing.
And here in the Village, the peaceful spirits are sleeping safe in their beds, dreaming earthly
dreams of vegetable gardens and friendly cats and warm cups of coffee at noon.
While they sleep, there is steady sound, a constant hum, a soft flowing rhythm in the air.
It comes from the edge of town. A young potter is placing God's hands on the wheel and
the wheel is spinning round.
"The Heavenly Village" written by Cynthia Rylant , printed by Scholastic