Unbeknownst to me, the Potter had heard my cry. As I sat there crying out, He had already begun to put on His winter wear and prepare to come out and take me back in.
The Master Potter endured the harsh cold and bitter wind blowing across the exposed areas of Hs body, striking Him like nails and thorns. Right after He picked me up, He threw me against the rocks and shattered me into a hundred pieces. The sudden impact revived me and made me aware of my surroundings once more. He reached out and took my pieces into His arms, holding me close to His warm chest. Turning so that He took most of the beating of the wind against His own body, He brought me back inside.
First, He took me to His washing pan and filled it with warm water. Then with His best soap He began to clean every one of my pieces. The warm, clean water felt good as He rubbed the soap over me and rinsed me clean. Slowly all my colors washed away until I was once again a brownish-tan color. Once He had finished, He took me to His worktable. As I watched, He took some fresh new clay and began to form a new vase. Once the basic shape was visible, He took my pieces one by one and attached it against the sticky surface.
It took a while, but soon all of my pieces were affixed to the new structure. He added a few more touches here and there, and spread a thin layer of fresh clay over me to ensure every crack was sealed. I noticed, however, that my cracks still showed through. I wanted to point it out, but thought better of it.
Next, He stood me upright on His decorating table. He picked up his brushes and began to paint new patterns on me. I wondered what it looked like, as I felt His brushes move in the strangest directions, with sudden jerks and turns. But I trusted Him to decorate as He saw fit.
But that wasn’t all. He opened a drawer and procured a small ivory box. When He exposed its contents to me, I became silent with awe. There, nestled among the satin folds, were three lustrous pearls, shining as brightly as the moon on its fullest night.