Broken Clay Pots

There’s a town about a half an hour away from us that has monthly occasional sales.  Most of the stores sell upcycled, refurbished, refinished, antique-y type home goods.  It’s kind of like a treasure hunt; sometimes I find exactly what I’m looking for, other times I find exactly what I didn’t know I was looking for, and sometimes I find no treasure at all.

This month, Justin and I were at the sales and one of the things that caught my eye was a random collection of beat-up clay pots.  They were tucked underneath a table, outside, wet from the rain.  I looked long enough at them to know they weren’t in the best shape, there were a lot of them although I wasn’t sure exactly how many, and they could be mine for just $8.  And then I walked away.  Mostly because, what was I going to do with this random collection of clay pots?  I’m not a flower or garden-type person.  It didn’t really make sense for me to like these little pots, but for some reason I kept thinking about them even as we continued our treasure hunting in other shops.

Just before we were about to head back home, Justin asked if I had seen anything that I wanted to go back and look at.  I mentioned the clay pots, but almost dismissed the idea before explaining myself.  He is fully aware that I’m not a plant person, so he’d agree that the pots were better suited for another treasure hunter.  When I told him that I wasn’t sure what I’d do with them, but that I just liked them, he went and looked at them, paid the $8, and loaded them into our trunk.  Neither of us were really sure what would happen with them.

The next day, I unloaded my random collection of beat-up clay pots with Mackenna.  As we unstacked them, examined them and counted them, Mackenna and I had a conversation that has stuck with me…it went something like this:

“Mom, we need to clean these up!”

“Why?”

“Because they’re dirty and gross.  Ew, this one has a bug crawling in it!”

“Well, if we plant something in them, won’t we just be putting more dirt into them?  Might as well just leave them a little dirty if they’re going to get dirtier.”

“Mom, look at this one, it has a huge crack in it!  Let’s just throw that one away.”

“Nah, let’s keep it.  I kind of like that crack.  I think it looks cool.”

“Uh-oh, somebody painted this one with red paint and did not do a nice job.  It’s ugly, let’s not use this one, Mom.”

“I think the red is pretty; it makes that pot different and special.”

She thought I was crazy.  She thought the dirt, cracks and bad paint jobs made the pots ugly and unusable, or at least not worth keeping.  But to me, it was those exact same things that made those clay pots beautiful.  The ones in perfect shape weren’t as interesting to me; my eyes were drawn to the less-than-perfect ones.  And the more I thought about it, I realized that these clay pots are a lot like people.  And I thought about how Jesus sees me, all of me, mistakes, regrets, weaknesses included.  And He doesn’t cast me aside, unworthy.  He loves me, just as I am.  And there is no greater feeling than to be fully seen and fully loved.

I’m afraid I tend to see people like Mackenna sees those clay pots.  But I want to see people the way Jesus does.  Not beautiful despite our flaws, but beautiful because of our flaws.