Fantasies and Taking One's Time: A Reflection on Pottery & Faith

Five years ago, Kim and I were losing our minds. We had six straight months of sleep deprived nights, the lack of proven parenting skills and frankly, very little sanity. In the midst of all that chaos, I was unloading my emotional baggage to someone I know and trust. After I had stopped talking, she looked at me and said, "So, what is your fantasy?" My response was to cock my head sideways like a confused cocker spaniel, "Huh?" I said. "When it all makes you crazy, what is it you dream of to escape the chaos?" she replied. With that explanation, I knew exactly what she meant. I blurted out, "I quit my job, take all of the money I can pull together and drive to Las Vegas in a convertible and join the World Poker Tour." There you have it. It became my personal fortress of solitude. I needed only to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths and in the midst of Olivia's screams, I could be playing poker.

Georgia is a much quieter baby. However, those moments are still there. Two days ago, on Christmas Eve, I was holding Gigi. She was crying. Actually, she was screaming. Olivia was at my side shaking Zingo, a game she received for her birthday a couple weeks ago. I was trying to get her to help me dress her for the five o'clock Christmas Eve service. Then the phone rang. My mother was asking me what time they should come over on Christmas day. I felt the sense of chaos creeping back. I realized in that moment what my new fantasy was.

I hung up the phone with my mother and closed my eyes. I took a couple of breaths and tried to hear past Gigi's cries and Olivia's calls to play Zingo. I had quit my job and was sitting in a pottery studio up in Provicetown. We lived on Commercial Street. I had a studio and gallery downstairs from an apartment with water views. I was alone throwing pots all day with a breeze blowing through the studio from the bay, right out the front door to the hustle of people walking down Commercial Street.

I opened my eyes and was back in the reality of caring for a two week old and a five year old. I was, for the time being, revitalized.

That fantasy also helped me realize how much I love pottery, how much I enjoy the process. Unfortunately, I only spend one evening a week at the studio. It isn't enough. There are those weeks when I feel the same about Church. Sometimes, Sunday mornings just aren't enough. Luckily, I have a key to the Church and can steal away to the sanctuary, even for 10 minutes of quiet reflection.

Pottery isn't quite that easy. While I could go for an additional evening, it would require several hours of commitment. Clean-up alone takes 20 minutes. This often results in rushing to get the most out of my two and a half hour studio time. The work should really dictate how quickly I progress with a piece. When I attempt to control the piece it usually results in disaster.

If you try to rush when making a plate and fail to compress the bottom (many, many times) it will likely result in a nasty crack after the bisque firing. If you trim a piece when it is to wet it will likely result in a gouged or warped finished product. If you try to rush the drying process and the piece dries to quickly or unevenly, it is prone to crack.

The drying process can be more stressful to clay than the kiln. I have written previously about my imagery of violence in the act of firing a piece of clay. While the drying process isn't violent, it can damage the more delicate aspects of your work. If not done properly, it can result in cracked edges and the separating of handles and added feet.

Long handles with multiple points of attachment are particularly vulnerable. If not covered properly, the clay at the two attachment points may dry at different rates. This may lead to breakage either at the joint or within the handle itself. One needs to ensure that the piece is adequately covered to minimize these risks. What you give up is time. There can be no rushing.

When we rush a piece we risk it cracking and we find ourselves having to start over at the beginning. I think our faith journeys have similar risks. If we rush through our time in prayer, community and thanksgiving, we risk arresting our spiritual development. Many of us stopped any spiritual growth when we were confirmed. As lay and ordained church leaders, we don't do a good job at keeping teenagers and 20-somethings engaged in a meaningful way in the church. Luckily, we tend to get them back when they have their own children in their late 20s and early 30s.

One needs to keep ones self engaged in reading texts that challenge us spiritually. And yes, we even need to make time for those adult education sessions. I know how precious time is. Trust me. However, we need these moments in community to help work out all that we've read. Remember, Jesus didn't show up to Thomas on a lonely road to disprove his doubt. He showed to Thomas in a locked room where all of the terrified disciples were hiding. I can't help but think Jesus did that on purpose. Thomas needed to be with his friends and peers to work out what he saw.

I read a recent post on a pottery blog that talked about how to slow the drying process on pottery. "For these vulnerable pieces, wrap the fragile part in a scrap of plastic to slow its drying rate to match that of the rest of the piece. Or apply wax resist to these areas for a similar result, if you don't mind the extra expense, production time and unwanted fumes during the bisque firing." One could say the same thing about our spiritual development. We only need change the nouns and verbs a bit. 'For these vulnerable pieces of our lives, wrap the fragile part in a community of faith to focus its development to match that of the rest of one's life. Or apply appropriate levels of education to these areas for a similar result, particularly if you don't mind the time spent in self-development and the challenging thoughts that will likely develop.'

All in good time.