Stuff happens

“I put myself in the way of things happening, and they happened.”
Theodore Roosevelt

(my current view within my home / Julie Cook / 2020)

We are a people of stuff…
We are a stuffy people…
and yes, stuff, our stuff, happens.

I have so much I want to say about stuff.
There is so much to say.
So much to say about the stuff of…
Mandates.
Vaccines.
Masks.
Santas that make kids cry simply because they asked if he could bring them a nerf gun.
Elections.
Election fraud.
Bought elections.
Being tired of the ongoing drama over elections in Georgia.
Being weary from all the Europeans, Australians, and South Africans lecturing us US bloggers
about US politics and policies.
Being tired of folks complaining about those who show their Christmas spirit.
Being tired of the shutdowns of restaurants, bars, and small businesses while Hollywood marches on.
Being sick about any and all things China.
Being sick about all things Russian.
Fake news.
Wokeness.
Riots.
Leftist propaganda.
Antifa.
Black Lives Matters.
Democrats.
Weak Republicans.
Wokeness.
Harry and Megan.
Pandemics.
Lockdowns.
Canceling Christmas.
Abortions.
Did I mention wokeness?
Political commercials.
Robo political calls.
Manipulation.

But I’m afraid that if I start trying to sort out all of this stuff,
I won’t be able to stop…

So instead, allow me to share both an interesting as well as beautiful reflection…
a comment I received yesterday regarding the post I had written about the nuttiness
over the attempts being made by the powers that be
to “cancel” out Christmas—with the argument being if we cancel out Christmas,
we will help with the never-ending flattening of the never-ending pandemic.

This from LightWriters:

Shows us just how closely this all seems to tie into the
anti-Christian communist agenda—virus came from there,
many of the masks we are forced to wear are made there—
Yet, our God laughs at the wicked as we read in the Psalms.
He is greater and many will have an opportunity in this ‘crisis’
to think about the true meaning of snd reason for the season.
Shalom and Blessed Christmas

https://5wise.wordpress.com

So instead of trying to begin sorting out all of this insufferable stuff,
allow us rather, during this Advent season, to head toward a deeper space.
A space deep within each of our beings where the ancient piece of the Divine resides.
Where the tender mark of the Creator rests upon the created.
The indelible fingerprint of the master potter permanently engrained
upon the vessel of his creation.

“…And then, just when everything is bearing down on us to such an extent that
we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us
that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is
really good and light because it comes from God.
Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty,
light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us;
whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed
as love and rules the world and our lives.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas

Signature marks

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter;
we are all the work of your hand.
Isaiah 64:8

Russian photographer Alexey Kljatov has devised a clever way to bring the wonder
of macro photography to the minuscule world of snowflakes. Using a homemade rig comprised
of a working camera lens, a wooden board, some screws and old camera parts, Kljatov captures the breathtaking intricacies of snow, six-sided symmetry and all. (Huffpost)

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/03/alexey-kljatov_n_4373888.html

Some days an idea for a post just kind of pops into my head.

It’s more or less like a random thought that just appears out of nowhere.

The proverbial wee small voice that speaks out of the darkness bringing
a notion into clarity.

I call it the Holy Spirit…others call it a coincidence, the subconscious or a dream
that woke up…

For me, it’s not some sort of audible voice booming down from the mountain top,
rather it’s just a thought that enters into the consciousness and makes its presence known.

So I tend to turn these pop-ups over, mulling and pondering while trying to figure a sharable angle.

I mentally formulate words and a sort of sequence and flow to this ‘out of the blue’ thought.

And so one day last week, it was the notion of our creation of uniqueness and individuality,
by the hands of God, which spoke rather loud and clear…
but more importantly, it was that of His signature marks.

Psalm 139 came into focus as I was ruminating over this idea…
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
(Psalm 139:3-6)

We are each individual and unique in His eyes.
We are each capable of having a very unique and personal relationship with Him.
Not so much the collective mass of humanity, but He is very interested in each one of
us individually.

So I thought of the opening verse to this post…
about how we have been compared to as the clay as God is the potter.
He works us and molds us uniquely with His hands.

If you’ve ever worked with clay…say making something by hand or throwing a pot on the wheel,
you will notice that your fingerprints (or those of the potter) will actually dry in the clay.
Fire the piece in a kiln and those individual fingerprints become apart of the pottery.

Signature marks.

I can remember a particular episode of M.A.S.H. when Hawkeye took off rather foolheartedly
to the front line in order to work the triage unit…all unbeknownst to Colonel Potter.
The triage units (for the Korean War which was what M.A.S.H. was based on) were mostly
comprised of exhausted and overworked medics who would frantically work to patch up
the wounded as best they could before transporting the wounded to a MASH unit for more
advanced surgeries, stabilizing and a bit of recovery before sending them to,
in this case, Tokyo before heading stateside or… in some cases patching them
up only to send them back to the battle lines.

During this particular episode, the shelling was so fierce and the 4077 had lost
all radio contact with the front lines.
B.J. and Colonel Potter were both worried sick about Hawkeye and his survival
not to mention that they were now short a surgeon.

As the transports began to arrive at the 4077th, B.J. and company began the hours of surgery
on the wounded who were pouring in…
B.J. was up to his elbows inside some kids guts, working on putting this kid back together,
when he joyously exclaimed that Hawkeye was indeed alive and well because this particular
kid, who had been first quickly stitched up on the front, was stiched up by Hawkeye.
B.J. knew this because he knew Hawkeye’s signature stitchery.
As it seems surgeons can have their own unique way of sewing and splicing us back together.

Their own signature marks.

My husband who is a watchmaker by trade can most often work on a clock and
actually be able to tell how many times and when the last time the clock
had been worked on.

A watch/clock repairman will leave a small unique mark scratched on the inside back metal
plate covering of the clock.
It’s a way of letting future watchmakers know when, where and how a clock was worked on.

Signature marks.

And so the idea of signature marks became apparent that this was the “thought”
I was to work out and later share…here.

We’ve got God’s fingerprints all over us.
We are known, by Him, inside and out.
Intimately.

But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.
Matthew 10:30

And so as I contemplated what sort of image I needed to share which somehow reflected
this notion of God’s unique signature which in turn makes each of us unique…
the thought of snowflakes came to mind.

We all know that snowflakes are all different…meaning no individual snowflake is the same.
They are not cookie cut from some sort of mold or limited to a handful of shapes or patterns.

I found this story on HuffPost about a Russian photographer who has figured out a way of
capturing with hyperfocus macro images of snowflakes.

I looked at these images and was amazed by the intricate artistic details of each of these tiny
ice crystals.
They each look like tiny glass sculptures of a variety of shapes, complete with designs
that appear to be comprised of tiny perfect hearts, flowers, arrows, feathers…
each one being symmetrical, equal, balanced…all the components and elements of what
makes art, art…

So if you think it’s a random fluke of nature that snowflakes can look like these tiny pieces
of amazing design and yet have no connection to something Divine or of that which
is greater than man himself…then I think you need to consider the idea of signature marks.

“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand,
measured heaven with a span and calculated the dust of the earth in a measure?
Weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?”
Isaiah 40:12

The work in becoming

I have but shadowed forth my intense longing to lose myself in the Eternal and become merely a lump of clay in the Potter’s divine hands so that my service may become more certain because uninterrupted by the baser self in me.”
Mahatma Gandhi

“I want to help you to grow as beautiful as God
meant you to be when He thought of you first.”
― George MacDonald

Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.
Isaiah 64:8

(an area of bog being dug…peat bogs, the spongy base which makes up so much of Ireland is dug up, cut or formed into bricks, dried and used for fuel, it is also becoming a medium for artists who sculpt and carve beautiful images from the intense black bog / somewhere along Gleann Cholm Cille / County Donegal, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015)

Any potter, ceramist, or sculptor will tell you that before there is a mug, a plate, a bowl, a vase, a statue, a figurine, a sculpture…
there is a lot of digging, mixing, processing, rolling, watering, wedging, pushing, shoving, beating, slapping, pinching, moulding, slamming, overlapping, smashing, smushing, forming, pulling, prying, poking, smoothing, burning, cooking, heating, coloring, glazing….

Clay…before it becomes something of beauty or of purpose, or even both, must first go through a complete overhaul–both physically as well as molecularly. It is considered to be a perfect medium in the minds of many an artist as it is forgiving, up to a point, and can be transformed into almost anything…

A naturally occurring raw product taken directly from the earth, add in a little refinement, then placed in just the right hands, a seemingly magical if not mystical transformation from mere dirt and a little water, emerges into something of both practical use and amazing beauty. A new creation emerging from something initially so simple, mostly overlooked and certainly taken for granted… with just the needed and necessary work, results in an amazing metamorphosis.

Is it then any wonder that man is so often compared to clay which has been given over the hands of the master Creator?
That which was formed from dust and ash…
In the heavenly eyes of the One True Creator, a raw natural product, incomplete and in great need of forming, shaping, prodding, moulding, firing and finishing…

That when eventually transformed, becomes a thing of beauty that is both strong and fragile all rolled into one.

We live our entire lives in the hands of the One who works tirelessly and lovingly forming, shaping, reshaping, heating and coaxing out that which is within.
Forever patient, as is any potter, He tenderly yet persistently works and reworks His clay into a thing of wonder.

It is however a life long process, one not always realized—this forming, moulding, making and becoming….
At times it is most painful and difficult, trying and even excruciating… yet when all is said and done, the final result is indeed a treasure to behold…

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
Psalm 139:15-16

Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.”
So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.
But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands;
so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
Then the word of the Lord came to me.
He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.
Jeremiah 8:2-6