The Jar of Clay

It was our first anniversary. One year of marriage. One wonderful and, at times, stressful year of becoming a couple and a family all at once. Our paths to each other had taken many twists and turns but God brought us together, surprising and delighting and thrilling us both.

So, to celebrate, he and I stole away to a lovely little mountain town that becomes a large mountain town when it’s swollen with tourists during the peak season. But that weekend, it was just the locals and us. We felt spoiled because we had the restaurants, shops, and streets to ourselves.

One day, after a very nice, almost gourmet lunch in a small hotel restaurant, we drove down the street to the art gallery. We had spied it the day before and were looking forward to seeing whatever treasures it held. We hoped to find something to commemorate the occasion. When we walked inside, the grayness outside faded with bright lights and colorful canvases. Wow. Surely there would be something special here.

My husband stopped to look at the paintings close to the front. I moved on ahead. When I turned a corner, I saw it, hanging up on the left. It stopped me in my tracks. The painting was large, first of all, and the blend of colors jumped off the canvas: greens, purples, blues, pinks, a band of coral at the top, a light green background. It was striking. I called my husband over and he had a similar reaction. Wow!

A few moments later, he said, “It’s a jar of clay.”

“Yes,” I said. “Like we are.”

The rest of the day, we couldn't stop thinking and talking about that painting so we brought it home with us. It now hangs in our living room. Its beauty reminds us of our faith, our love for each other, and a trip that celebrated both.