POEM: Potter's Clay [3]

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GRANDPARENTS

TEARS IN A BOTTLE COLLECTION
Caryl Ramsdale, American Poetess

Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor?
ROMANS 9:21 KJV

POTTER'S CLAY
to Carolyn Hults

When I was a little girl,
Grandma taught me to crochet;
One dozen dark, red roses,
Filled up her basket of clay.

She told me bible stories,
As our needles clicked away;
Sometimes I can hear her voice,
Just like it was yesterday.

When grandma said:
"Potter's hands shape vessels child,
If something goes wrong, they break;
That's when He reworks that piece,
And fixes every mistake."

Then Grandma said:
"The Lord's hands shape our lives child,
We're vessels made out of clay;
And when things go wrong with us,
He mends us in His own way."

Now I have a granddaughter,
Her crochet needle is blue;
She knows how to make roses,
And loves bible stories too.

Someday she'll be a grandma,
And share a needle or two;
She'll crochet and tell stories,
Like the ones I told to you.