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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Outlook (06/02/11)
The funeral was over. The guests and family had all left. The house was empty and cold. Melinda cried herself into a restless troubled sleep that night. As usual she got up at dawn. Mechanically she prepared the breakfast tray and took it over to the little table on the balcony. She started to pour out the second cup of tea and suddenly realized there was no need for that second cup of tea. Henry was gone. He would never have tea with her again.

The dark arm of inconsolable grief held her in its relentless grip. Its iron fingers tried to squeeze the breath out of her lungs. Depression set in like a dark cloud. She sat down still clutching the teapot. Her gaze wandered aimlessly into the garden below. She saw the broken clay jar half buried in the dirt by the lilac bushes. Henry had brought back that jar from one of his business trips. It had been a beautiful piece of art and she had cherished it. Then the cat accidentally knocked it down and it broke.
Although it was mostly intact, Melinda could not find all the pieces and could not fix it. She could not bear to throw it in the garbage and had placed by the lilac bushes. Today the jar seemed to symbolize her life: broken, empty, abandoned and useless. Maybe God had a plan for her life – only she could not see it now. Maybe He had a purpose for her future – only she could not comprehend it now. She tried hard to hold on to God’s promise to never fail. In an anguished voice she cried out: “Dear God, please, please help me believe – Send me your Holy Spirit –please, let me feel Your healing touch.”

Years passed. Melinda started to slowly rebuild her life. She buried herself in her work and tried to forget her misery. But the darkness in her soul and the emptiness in her heart persisted. Her hair turned grey, her smile faded and her eyes lost their sparkle. Her once happy and confident outlook on life changed into fear and hopelessness. She seemed to be standing at the edge of a precipice looking fearfully into the dark chasm below. It was here that one day her Blessed Savior met her and offered her a chance to restore her broken life. She received an invitation from her Pastor to join a short-term mission trip to Zambia to work in an orphanage for babies. She accepted it and went to Zambia.

For two weeks she worked with the tiny, malnourished, sick and neglected babies. The pent up love in her heart flowed freely as she held them in her arms and rocked them to sleep. Slowly the babies responded to her love and one day a baby opened his large dark eyes and smiled. Her heart leaped with joy and she smiled back. It was the day the process of healing started for both of them.

At the end of her stay the Director of the orphanage asked her if she would consider working with them permanently. She replied that she would think about it. When she returned home she prayed and asked for God’s guidance.

It was spring again and the lilac bushes were in full bloom. Melinda went out to pick some bunches of those fragrant flowers. As she neared the bushes a frightened, screaming bird flew out of the broken jar. Gently, Melinda peered into the jar and saw a small bird’s nest with three tiny baby birds with their eyes closed and their mouths wide opened. They reminded her of the babies in Zambia. The baby birds had found security and comfort in the broken, empty, discarded and worthless clay jar.

She remembered how she had identified her life with that jar. Maybe God was telling her that she could be to those African babies what the jar was to these birds. Maybe this was the answer to her prayer. Her life would now have a purpose. Her bleak outlook for the future would change into hope and joy. Her faith, love and trust, the treasures in the earthen jar of her life, would bring happiness to the hopeless and helpless.
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This article has been read 839 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Janice Stotz
06/10/11
What a beautiful story you crafted! I loved the meaning found in the broken jar of clay. I really enjoyed reading this.
Mildred Sheldon
06/10/11
I loved your simple story, but the title was magnificent. Are we not all jars of clay waiting to be made useful by the Masters hand?
diana kay
06/11/11
fantastic story and i think it is a winner.I can so relate to much of this and feel the emotions of the MC. I wrote a poem called 'cracked pot' covering some of the same experiences.i am glad you found a new way and poured her love into those needy lives. :-)
Jeanette Oestermyer
06/12/11
What a Great Title and also the story that was connected to the jar of clay. I can understand the feeling it may have created. Great story.
Janice Fitzpatrick
06/12/11
Oh this is amazingly written and such a beautiful piece. Your piece spoke volumes to me as there has been times in my life that I have felt like a broken vessel but praise God He restores and shows us gently His purpose for our lives. I loved the comparison you used with the little bird family finding dwelling in a cracked old pot and the babies in Zambia finding refuge in Melinda's arms and heart.
This is one of the most uplifting and heartfelt pieces I have read this challenge. They're all good but your Holy Spirit crafted piece whispered hope to this old cracked vessel of mine.:) Praise the Lord and thank you.
This needs publishing, seriously.
Virgil Youngblood 
06/15/11
Beautiful title. Beautiful story. Well done.