It is not thou that shapest God
It is God that shapest thee.
If then, thou art the work of God,
Await the hand of the Artist who does
All things in due season.
Offer Him thy heart,
Soft and tractable and keep the form
In which the artist has fashioned thee.
Let the clay be moist
Lest thou grow hard
And lose the imprint of His fingers.–St. Irenaeus
Often times I can get the idea that I need to stay strong, but often my efforts at strength result in rigidity. When that happens my clay is no longer moist and I begin to lose the imprint of his fingers. I’ve often had trouble seeing and recognizing grace in my life. It’s easiest for me to see grace in a gentle rainstorm. It is that rain that moistens my clay.
Peace.