There is a pottery studio just around the corner from where I’m staying. I was so bummed to discover this only now, but thrilled I was able to snag a spot for a wheel throwing class a few days ago.

            Instructor: so, let’s go around real quick and share what the highlight of your day was.

            Me: This! This class, this clay, this wheel – all of this!

I’ve wanted to throw on a wheel for as long as I can remember. There is something so mesmerizing about a blob of clay transforming into a beautifully smooth, symmetrical shape between two slippery hands gracefully pressing and lifting the clay. Like a ballerina.

So, Youtube videos make throwing on a wheel appear waaaay easier than it is. Steadying and centering the clay – the first step – had me gasping for air. Ha! Demoralizing. But, creating pots and toning my biceps? #winning.

Thankfully, I’m scrappy and was able to pull my first pot/cup without too much struggle.

            Instructor: You’re crushing it. That’s the best beginner’s wheel piece I’ve ever seen.

            Me: You’re kidding. Really??

            Instructor: Are you sure you’ve never thrown before??

I often wonder about possible pasts. In middle school, I was voted “most likely to be a sculptor.” It was largely based on this huge – thing – I built out of wood and barb wire, then panted blue and purple, for an art project. Semi-ugly, but no one else’s project was nearly as impressively large as mine, and I’m fairly certain that was what won me the title. Anyway, I think about that once in a while – the things I have created or accomplished in my distant past that have left impressions on others, and the possible paths of my life had I pursued something other than law.

What if I had gone to art school instead? What if I had opened that coffee shop I’d always dreamed of? What if I’d taken that job in Cambodia?

It’s a delicate balance, evaluating the past against today’s reality to chart the course towards the future.

There’s a quote from Eric Liddell that I love: “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” I always felt I could relate. God made me creative. And when I create, I feel His pleasure. 

Comments like the one from my clay instructor the other night make me wonder if God has gifted me with a measure of artistic ability that could take things somewhere beyond recreational. I would love to pour into artistic endeavors more regularly, maybe even professionally.

But how?

I will continue dreaming and playing with my air-dry clay and paints as I ponder this.