Susan LaffertyI keep it on my desk. This broken piece of a red clay. What remained after the common clay jar fell off the shelf one day.
My one semester in pottery class taught me a lot about clay and kilns. And the fragility of earthen vessels.
One small pebble could break apart a potter’s masterpiece as it was formed on the wheel or as it baked in the kiln.
The tropical rain was pounding the pavement, flooding the side yard, pouring dense and loud. Riah laughed and said, “We call this a rich man’s rain.” Oh? I looked up curiously. She continued, “On days like this, the poor man cannot work. And when he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid. And when he doesn’t get paid, he doesn’t eat and his family doesn’t eat. That’s why we call it a rich man’s rain.”
In the midst of a difficult season in Delhi, I remembered Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. And started a gratefulness journal. I numbered big and small reasons to give thanks.