Advent I: Bumpy Pottery

Over the years, the accomplished ceramicist changed the style of her art. She continued making bowls and mugs (among other things), but the form of her creations changed. Instead of smooth surfaces, her works became bumpy, rough, and unpredictable. The change wasn’t so much a decision as an evolution, an organic response to the artist within. There were people who celebrated the change, others who wished she’d go back to her old style, but at a recent art show she was given all the affirmation she needed.

She was one of many artists assembled in booths in a large hall. People wandered throughout, stopping occasionally to examine her work, but then looked around for more conventional pieces in the booths nearby. Then it happened. She noticed a woman looking closely at one of her mugs. She held it close to her face, so close her face almost touched it. “She’s probably looking for mistakes,” the artist’s inner critic said before she approached the woman.

“May I help you? You seem to be examining that piece closely.”

“Forgive me,” said the woman, “but I am nearly blind. I came looking for your work specifically because you create the only ones these eyes can see. The edges and bumps make it possible for me to see the pieces, plus I love the way they feel.”

The artist smiled and felt the woman had given her a gift, a gift of encouragement that made her determined to continue pursuing this new style of art.

When I heard this story, I knew I was being given a lesson about much more than pottery. As I envisioned the woman cupping the mug in her hand like a precious gift and squinting her eyes as she searched for visible edges and bumps, I knew I was being encouraged on my way toward living a more authentic life. There was a time when I tried very hard to hide my bumps and edges. I wanted to look like everyone else, but the veneer cracked and suddenly my edges, bumps and other “imperfections” were exposed. It was awful, and I longed for my old shiny, smooth life until I saw people drawing close, squinting their eyes and reaching out to touch my bumps and edges. At first, I thought it was to point out my many imperfections, but I’ve since learned that it was to see me better. Those very things I sought to hide were the things they were looking for. Like the woman with the pottery, it was the edges and bumps that made me visible, knowable.

During this time of year, we often dress up and present our best selves to our family and friends. We want the world to see our shiny selves, but if the season of Advent invites us to do anything it is to shed the veneers and bring our full selves to the season - yes, the bumps, edges too. Some people may walk away, but others, the one’s who truly matter, will draw close and hold us in a new way. They will squint their eyes and see us, truly see us, as if for the first time. Suddenly, they’ll see the work of the potter in all its uniqueness and maybe be invited to do the same.

What a wonderful Christmas that would be for us and the people around us.

For more on the artist (Lisa Howard): https: //www.lbhdesigns.net/