Made For More

Clearly, this is made for more.
So obviously wanting.
Blatantly vacant.
Open and receptive.
Ready to be filled- but with what?
It's beyond me what that something should be.

I never envisioned this would stump me.
The organic nature of creation being what it is, however, I'm caught without an answer.

Weeks at a time, I felt like banging my head against the wall or flinging it in the trash.
"Can't I just be done with it?! This is becoming painful."

Once or twice, I almost painted over it. A blank canvas would be relief.

At times it makes me want to scream.
Some days it's more like weeping.
Other days I live in longing.
Dissatisfied.


Gracious friends, though, saw potential
Turned my criticisms on their heads.
Where I saw desolation, they saw invitation.
Redemption.
"Fill me. Mold me. Use me." It said to them.
Well, I never heard it say that. Well, I just never did.

(Was it because I wasn't really listening? Was even interested in listening?)
Had I decided it was hopeless? Dismissed it as junked with nary a thought toward completeness?



And now, of course, I wonder what You might see when You look at these holes.

Clearly we were made for more.