Always Remain Malleable

I stepped into a classroom last week and noticed several students gathered at the clay table. I sat down to watch, captivated by their deep engagement. As a Reggio-inspired preschool, clay plays an essential role in our classroom. It is one of the “Hundred Languages,” a medium through which children bring their drawings, ideas, and visions to life.
 
As they worked, the children spoke naturally with one another, describing their creations and asking for tools. One little boy muttered about needing more “slip”—the watered-down clay used to help pieces adhere. He carefully rolled out a long, snake-like coil and attempted to attach it to another piece. When the result didn’t meet his expectations, he quickly grabbed both sections, smooshed them together, and rolled them into a ball. Undeterred, he began again, reshaping his idea and thinking aloud about what he might create next.
 
Nearby, another child had been forming a cat. After a moment of laughter with a friend about its shape, she reconsidered and confidently declared it a horse instead. I was struck by the children’s creativity and their intuitive understanding of the clay. Even more, I was moved by their persistence, their willingness to begin again and their determination to transform a stubborn gray lump into something meaningful and beautiful.
 
As I observed, I was reminded of Book of Isaiah 64:8: “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” In that moment, I reflected on my own life and was reminded that neither the joys nor the challenges I face are random. God is continually shaping, molding, and refining me into who He intends me to be.
 
I pray that I remain malleable and open—willing to be guided, even when the process is
uncomfortable or unclear. Like clay pressed and reshaped, it can be painful to be stretched in one direction or broken in another. Yet I trust in His hands. As Isaiah reminds us, God is a loving Father, carefully forming each of us with purpose and care.
 
What He is creating in me is still unfolding, but I trust that it will be something as meaningful and beautiful as the creations I witnessed that day at the clay table.
 
Grace and peace,  
 Jennifer Sawicki
Director of Northbrook Preschool