THE PROTESTING PITCHER by Jan Persons

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THE PROTESTING PITCHER by Jan Persons
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• Ouch, that hurts!
• Relax!
• But that hurts when you pinch like that. Yow!
• Sure it does, but just for a second. Cmon,
  relax and let me finish. I know what Im doing.
• Yeah, but do you have to squish me right here? I
  mean, couldnt you just let me stay nice and
  round and wide?
• I could, but I have something else in mind.
• Well, could you hurry it up?
• Im trying to , but your constant interruptions

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• and arguments are slowing things down.
• Hey! There you go again squishing me together
  even harder. Is all this really necessary?
• Sure is. Im making myself a pitcher, and a
  pitcher isnt a pitcher without a pouring spout.
  It isnt a bean pot or a garbage can Im wanting.
  Now settle down, Im almost through. You want to
  be useable, dont you?
• Well, yes. But Id never have let you take me
  out of that hillside of clay if Id known youd
  be doing all this to me.

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• So? Thats why I didnt tell you. But believe
  me, youll be far happier being my best water
  pitcher than you were wasting your days back in
  that hillside of clay. You werent useful to
  anyone back there. Now youre ready for the
  kiln.
• Kiln? What is a ki----eeyii!! What are you
  trying to do? Kill me? Its hot in here!
• Yep. I know.
• When do I get out? Can you turn down the
  temperature? Just a little?

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• Nope. If I turned it down even a little or let
  you out a little bit early you wouldnt be
  tempered enough and youd crack. Now tell me,
  just what use is a cracked water pitcher? Relax.
• Oh, all right.
• Well, times up. Lets see what you look like.
  Ive never made a pitcher quite like you before.
  Oh, youre beautiful, if I do say so myself.
  Here, look for yourself.
• Ooh. Is that me? I never dreamed I could be made
  to look like this. Oh, Master Potter, thank you
  for not heeding my protests. Thank you for seeing
  past the cold, sticky clay that I was to

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• what you knew I could become. Thank you for
  working with me when I wanted to stay an ugly
  blob of clay. Thank you, most of all for seeing
  the final me all the time!
• But now, O Lord, Thou art our Father we are the
  clay, and Thou our potter and we all are the
  work of Thy hand. Isaiah 648