Provision Is Promised

March has always been the month in my life where things die and new things are born. Brian and my daddy’s deaths were both in March. I also released my love letter business and both of my books in March.

That was intentional. Life goes on, and He has work for us to do.

Then two years ago, in March, I felt a nudge to invest in a kiln. I had recently set aside my cuff business because of tinnitus, the constant ringing in my ears, and I thought ceramics might be a quiet reprieve.

Little did I know how hard working with clay really is.

The artisans who sit down at a pottery wheel and effortlessly throw mugs are unbelievably talented. The wheel is something that has to be mastered, and that is just the beginning. Then comes the very tricky art of glazing. Every time I see a piece of pottery now, I have such a deep appreciation for it.

After a lot of trial and error, I finally decided handbuilding is what I can muster. So I bought a little tabletop slab roller and have spent the last two years making all the things. Each one is a little more wonky than the last.

This latest endeavor was my most exciting experiment yet. I had an idea and decided that no matter what, I was finally going to offer it to the world.

So this morning, with bated breath, I opened the kiln and quickly realized that after two years, I am still not ready.

But are we ever?

The most unfortunate and frustrating thing about ceramics is the time involved. I made six little bird tiles and it took me weeks. Two days in the studio to handbuild them. A few days to let them dry. Two days to bisque fire. Then sanding. Then days set aside for hand painting with glaze. And with glaze you truly have no idea how it will turn out until it is too late.

Then you seal them and let that dry overnight. Then you load the kiln, praying you did everything right so they do not stick to the shelves, explode, crack, or glaze in some strange way. After two more days you can finally open the kiln and see what happened…

All that time and effort and suddenly you realize, CRUD, I did that wrong. What was I thinking?

The good news is that every mistake is a learning experience.

At this point I am not sure I will ever be a master. Details have never been my strong suit, and ceramics requires a lot of them. But I am still going to try.

That’s my word for the year, by the way. TRY.

I had originally planned to offer my sweet robins and daffodils for $95, but they came out warped. And since I made a promise to myself that I would offer them to the world, ready or not, I am keeping that promise.

So they are still for sale, just at the wonky price of $65.

They are stamped with the words “Provision is Promised.”

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more vaulable than they? Matthew 6:26

See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. Matthew 6:28-29

It’s a reminder to myself that God takes care of the birds. He clothes the flowers of the field, and they are full of splendor. If He cares about the littlest parts of creation, then He will certainly provide for me.

Maybe you need that reminder too. If you would like a wonky, slightly warped first offering from me, you can find them here.

In other news, my first book, Seeing God in the Sweet Ordinary, was taken out of print recently. The day I received the letter, I sat in my kitchen chair completely numb. I felt like I had failed. Like I had let the Lord down.

Promoting has never been something I enjoy. When I had my cuff business, sharing my work felt effortless. I simply showed you what I was making and there was always something new. Each piece of jewelry was custom, so my feed stayed full of inspiration.

Selling a book is different. You have to keep revisiting the same work and find new ways to present it. That is harder than you might think. And when you already feel uncomfortable selling something, it becomes even more of a challenge. Still, I felt like I had done my best. I receive letters often from readers telling me how much that book has meant to them. Because of that, I felt deep down that the book wasn’t finished yet.

So I reached out to my publishing company and asked a few questions. My editor told me they had recently sent the book to Cracker Barrel and will be on line review April 16th. If you have followed along with me for any length of time, you know Cracker Barrel has always been my big prayer request. I grew up eating there with my family. It holds so many special memories for me. Every time I go, I walk circles around their gift shop praying that one day my book might be sold there. Eeeep!!

Would you pray with me that it gets accepted? It could put the book into so many hands.

If you would like a copy, I still have some available here. It's really the sweetest book and perfect for an Easter gift.

One more prayer request. A year ago I launched my children’s book “My Forever Home: The Hope of Heaven.” I cannot believe it’s already been a year. Soon after the launch, Brian had a heart attack. Around that same time I felt a nudge to step away from Instagram for a year. It has been such a good lesson in pruning.

In order for new growth to come, pruning is necessary.

So I am still in that place. Being cut back. Waiting for the superbloom.

But while I am there, I have been invited to read my book to a classroom right before Easter. It’s way out of my comfort zone. The class is 3rd through 6th grade, and I will be front and center.

I’m really nervous. But I am stepping out believing that God will use this book to open doors for conversations about heaven and what comes next. It is a conversation starter.

I’m ready and so grateful for the opportunity. It feels like the perfect way to usher in Holy Week. Would you pray with me? Also, if you would like a copy for your Easter baskets, you can find it here.

So here I am this March. Birthing... Still trying. Still learning. Still opening the kiln and hoping for the best.

Some things come out beautiful. Some things come out warped, but maybe that’s the point. We show up anyway, trusting that the God who cares for the birds and clothes the flowers of the field is also caring for us.

Provision is promised.

Looking forward,

Becky