So I went down to the potter’s house and saw him working at the wheel. But the vessel that he was shaping from the clay became flawed in his hand; so he formed it into another vessel, as it seemed best for him to do.
A terracotta pot that splits on the back step usually goes straight in the bin. Nobody stands over the pieces wondering what else they could become, because broken clay seems to settle the question. It's easy to start thinking about your own life in the same way.
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