"Cheer up. Remember what the Monty Python boys say."
"Always look on the bright side of life?"
"No, 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.'"


Friday, December 7, 2007

"...I Am the Clay."

When we are born, our soul/spirit/heart is like an empty clay urn. It is whole, unblemished and full the brim with ~water~.

As life happens around us, our ~urn~ becomes chipped, bruised, maybe cracked. With each bump and ding, water spills out, sometimes just a splash, other times it is a lot more then we anticipated. After a while, we patch up the outside and plug up the leaks; the urn is still blemished yet full of character. We mop up the water and move on.

Yet, we often forget to refill the urn. With each emotional, physical, financial, and spiritual hit, our urn empties. Sometimes all the way, other times just enough to feel depleted. Before we know it, we are running on empty and begin feeling overwhelmed.

My urn is damaged. The breaking started in childhood and I have been patched together over and over so many times, I am not sure if I hold enough water at any given time. I patch one section and I find a crack in another, draining my soul once again. My urn needs to be restored. I need a new protective outer coat of clay so I can start over again, full to the brim.

Each of our repair shops has a different name, depending on the person: Rehab, Meditation, Therapy, AA, God, Buddha, Allah, etc. It doesn’t matter who does the repair; it just needs to happen.

I don’t think I am strong enough yet to really admit how far our journey to have a child will take us. I say it could be IVF or adoption, but my head hasn’t connected up with my heart My pot is still not ready for that final step of acceptance, no matter the outcome.

That acceptance is like the a kiln; pottery is only strongest after is has been fired. My emotional kiln is the infertility process.

I am slowly getting my hard outer shell of healing but I am not yet ready for the kiln. I need this next month or so to prepare myself: body, mind and soul. I am waiting to completely dry the tears in my heart, let my soul be molded back into its a beautiful, yet flawed, silhouette, then let the sun harden my resolve and well-being. Only after that will I be ready to stand in the fires of the kiln. I may not like the “baptism by fire” but it is necessary to be whole and complete.

I will forever hold the scars that infertility has left on me, but those scars will remind me of how grateful I should be that I am holding a child in my arms. I need those scars, experiences, trials… because what does not kill us makes us stronger.

4 comments:

jennifercarol said...

A beautiful metaphor, Tam. I disagree with your statement that you are not strong enough yet. Because you are strong! But you do need time to grieve the losses that have come with so many past cycles before moving to other options.

(((Hugs)))

jenn said...

This is one of the most beautiful things I have read. It is a perfect metaphor & everyone knows how this feels.

I agree that while you may feel depleted & chipped- your urn always has enough. You are one of the strongest women it has been my privelege to 'meet' & while your road & decisions are hard- you will make them well & it ~will~ all be worth it in the end.

I really just wish I could know when that would be for you!

Monica Fayth said...

I had actually once written using the whole clay thing as a metaphor about living in a close relationship with God. Remember the whole "He is the potter, I am the clay" thing? I had been thinking that as long as we remain on the potter's wheel, we can be torn down and built back up without having any real scars. But if we get off the wheel and harden on our own and get broken, then we can never be exactly the same again.

hoping for a child said...

i couldn't stop reading despite how painful it was...well done.