The Tea Pot

Shalom:
Mal. 3:3-4 "“He will sit as a smelter and purifier of silver, and He will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, so that they may present to the LORD offerings in righteousness. Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to the LORD as in the days of old and as in former years.

About 30 years ago, when I was going through a major trial, testing in faith, even wondering what sin was in my life, stopping me from hearing from G-d, my mother read me a story she heard at a Women's Retreat.

It was the story of the Tea Pot. ( A parable)

A couple went into an antique shop and they saw this beautiful magnificent little tea pot sitting high upon a shelf. They just fell in love with that little teapot. And they said, "We have got to have that teapot."

They were admiring the tea pot and all of a sudden the teapot began to talk to them. It said, "You know, I haven't always been like this. There was a time when nobody would have wanted me. There was a time when I was not attractive at all and not much use to the master. I was so broken and not fit for anything but the trash I thought."

You see there was a time in my life when I was just an old hard gray lump of clay and the Master Potter came along and picked me up one day and he began to pat, twist, turn me and reshape me and I said, "Stop it ! What are you doing? That hurts! Don't do that! Moaning, ahh! Leave me alone! " And He simply looked at me and said, "Not Yet."

And then He put me on this wheel and he began to spin me around and around and around and around and I got so dizzy that I couldn't even hardly see where I was going anymore. I was loosing it! Everything was spinning around and around and around and I felt sick to my stomach and I said, " Let me off of here!" And he said, "Not yet."

As the teapot spoke, it poured out tea for the couple into delicate cups that never emptied or grew cold. The teapot seemed to glow and light the dark corner like a lamp as it continued its story.

The worst was yet to come, however, My Master then put me into the oven. It was so incredibly hot that I cried and cried to be let out. But all He said was, "Not yet."

Finally, the oven door opened. He took me out and set me on a table. I thought, Whew! Thank goodness that is over! But then He began to paint me with this awful smelling stuff. I could hardly breathe when He put me back into the oven for a second time. It was even hotter than before! I thought I would die for sure. Just when I was ready to give up, He gently lifted me from the oven.

After a long rest, my Master came by and picked me up. I could clearly see my reflection in His eyes and saw that I had been transformed. I was now beautiful. He told me that it was my reward for being so patient and strong. I asked Him how I could repay Him and His face lit up.

 My Master and Maker then explained to me my purpose:" Pour out your story to everyone you meet. Don't be discouraged, if they don't hear or understand you. Keep your lid open a crack so I may fill you with my spirit where ever you may be. I will guide you all the rest of your days."

The teapot then seemed to glow even brighter as it finished sharing, "It is such an honour to serve my Master that I have been filled with joy ever since!"

The couple had tears in their eyes when the teapot finished its tale. They promised to also share his story with others and come often to visit. This delighted the teapot even more. He knew his Master would be pleased. The teapot was serving his purpose....

In the past 30 years, how often this story has come to mind. Even now, with all Mark and I are going through, we know that it is, in part more conformed into His Imagine, to bring Glory to His Name.

Tomorrow's story, The Tea Bag.

My Spiritual Journey; Part 2

Shalom:

My friend Richard Kidd recently said; "we are all on a spiritual journey..."

When I ponder upon those words, I cannot help but think that this means there is not only a purpose in life, but we are heading somewhere.
As one of our rabbi often says; "the question isn't when you die, where will your soul go, but to Whom."
I like that thought.
It makes me think of the times my family and I were planning a trip to visit extended family in New York. All the preparation that went into the trip; frying a batch of chicken and packing potatoes chips and cans of soda for our lunch as we rode on the Greyhound. Enough clothes for the visit, gifts and books to read.
We weren't just going to Aunt Lola or Aunt Lucille's home, but we were going to visit Aunt Lola and her family. We would be spending the wee with Aunt Lucille and her family.
For that week or for the summer, Aunt's Lola's home would be ours as well. And our New York family came to stay with us, our home was theirs as well.
Richard's words made me think; I am not just wandering through this life, only to end up six feet under and soon forgotten, just a memory to those who love me.
There is an end to this road; it is called Heaven.
And one day, I shall walk into that Golden Land and reunite with those who passed on before me, to return to the One Who Created me.
As C.S.Lewis once wrote, my soul "is drawn upward."
May we all find joy in the journey.

My Spiritual Journey; Part One

Shalom:

My friend Richard Kidd recently said: "People all around you are on a spiritual journey. It may be different than yours, perhaps filled with hurt and pain. Have you taken the time to stop and listen and ask respectful questions?"
His question got me thinking about my own spiritual journey....
My own journey has been filled with so many twist and turns, down through deep, dark valleys, black caves and even a worm-hole or two.
On the road I have met very interesting folks, gain friends, lost friends and even found my soul-mate.
As I look back, it has been an amazing journey that is far from over.
My journey began as a child, sitting on the window slit of my bedroom and staring out into the night sky, knowing that there was something, bigger, greater, than myself.
I would stare out the window, searching the ebony black sky, trying to peek around the moon or the stars, trying to see if there was an opening, hoping to catch a glimmer of an angel, or maybe even G-d Himself.
I remember at bedtime, Mummie kneeling beside our bed; my sister on one side of her and I on the other, her leading us in our bedtime prayer, "now I pray me down to sleep..."
I can still hear Mummie's voice, I can still feel her hand, holding my.
My mother.
It was my mother who placed my feet upon the path of faith, holding my hand as she taught me to walk. And when I could finally walk on my own, she took my hand and placed it into the Hand of G-d.
As I sit here and begin this series on my own spiritual journey, I realise how blessed I am to still have my mother walking  with me on my journey, still guiding me, still encouraging me.
Still taking my hand and praying with me.