It was as if God sent an angel with a message in a bottle for me. How did she know- that for the past 2 months, I felt God speaking to me about growing up, that for the past month since that day, I kept seeing, over and over, the image of God's hands moulding a clay vessel, myself, into shape, but never quite seeing His face.
When I closed my eyes, I kept seeing His hands moulding me, shaping me, like a Potter with his clay, so much so that when the doors opened for me to visit Nepal and the children at the orphanage again next week after my end-of-year exams, I decided to learn some ethnic pottery during my time there, from a friend's friend. Tis a marvellous thing, to attempt to understand why God is called the master potter.
This year, my final exams end on the day I turn 22- in two days. It set me thinking.
In so many ways, this year has been so different. Just about the same time last year, plodding through the lowest trough of my life, I had lost so much hope, wondered if the darkness would ever end. Growing up seemed so hard to do, so distant.
And while I've still a long way to walk on this pilgrim's progress- a year on, I've never been healthier, more aware of who I am-my weaknesses and strengths, and more certain of who I am in God, who God is to me. A year on since the darkest, most painful experience of my life, I can finally- the first time in three years- concentrate on the present, remember things clearly, run and cycle with freedom, experience the joy of humility, love, holiness and thanksgiving in the fullest measures of life, in the way only being closer to God can bring.
It's true. All this while, God's been holding me by the hand, leading me, picking me up, somtimes squeezing it so I have the courage to walk on. In the times I was too tired, too short of faith, too much in despair, he carried me; In the times I was too troubled to sleep, he lay by me and held me to sleep; In the times I wanted to shut my eyes and rage at him, he took the blow of my wilfulness. Always, there were angels around to guide, encourage, love me, take me by the hand to steady my feet, treat my wounds.
But now that I'm turning 22, it's time to grow up. Time to let go of a father's hand and start to walk on my own, explore new places, discover new frontiers, without fearing the independence. The past few months have been the most exciting months of re-discovering who I am.
Things are different, now. Since all that has happened, I've learnt to be more secure, content, and confident, more accepting, humble and willing to listen. I discover I like to eat as much as exercise, that good music and dance excites me just as much as painting and poetry; I discover I enjoy company as much as solitude; I'm as anxious as I am excited about becoming a doctor, an elder sister to others, a woman. I find myself much more certain of my place in God, and am no longer afraid to let my hair down, change out of kiddie clothes and wear a grown-up dress.
It's time to let go of that familiar dependence, so I can let go of old, childish ways, let go of a wooden horse that no longer fits to master real creatures...
... let go of the adolescent fear of cycling to really ride on the real thing...
No longer one of the potshards on the ground always questioning God, I find myself trusting in the Potter's hand. And now the next step, is to look into the eyes of the Potter himself.
And though it's never easy to let go of what one is familiar with, the truth is we can never grow up unless we learn to take the leap. For so long I'd been looking at God's hands, at the Potter's hand of guidance, of comfort and sometimes discipline- to the point I had forgotten that he's a friend with a face, too.
So it's time to let go, grow up and experience God in a different way, no longer merely as a father or teacher, but also as a brother and friend. To lay next to him, awakening not just to see his hand, but to gaze into his face.
And perhaps the best thing is, no matter how far we run, He's always near. Even though our hands never touch, and in times of wilfulness when we shut our eyes to hide from his gaze, he's always near, always waiting, always just... by us. And so I know, that even though it's time to let go of that familiar hand, all I need to do, in times of confusion, darkness or despair, is just to turn and be surprised to find that all this time, He's still right there.
His eyes on me, waiting, still.
"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see
face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
- 1 Cor 13:11, 12
"I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you shall go:
I will guide you with My eye."
-Psalm 32:8
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