Hello, friends! Today is the day I get to present to you the second place winner in my 2018 Beauty for Ashes Story Contest: "A Jar of Clay." This is a beautiful story and I can't wait for you to read it... I walk home alone in the dark the day my sister died. Just before dawn, I step into my empty apartment. The door creaks, then slams, as I push it shut behind me. Flipping the light on, I move on into the small kitchen and collapse at the kitchen table. Today has been so long, so weary, so hopeless. And so painful. My cold fingers trace an aimless pattern on the wood of the table as I stare into the silence. The heavy aroma of paint floats out to me from my living room. Alyssa's portrait. I'd taken a last photograph of her only this morning. It's still sitting on my phone, because, of course, I didn't leave the hospital until I had to. Not until the very end – the heartbreaking end. Cancer – one of the ugliest words I've ever heard – has torn apart my family's life. Alyssa has suffered more than any of us, but we've all suffered – my mom and dad; my brother, married with a daughter; I with my own apartment and dividing my time between college and the hospital. We've adjusted our schedules and scraped for money and clung to each other... and now... Setting my teeth, I force myself to stand on shaky legs and walk into my living room. I approach the easel and toss aside the protective cloth. There she is – my little sister, smiling bravely at the world. I know I can never capture the sparkle of her blue eyes. Those eyes have closed forever. The slightly-waved, glossy blonde hair falling on her shoulders has long since disappeared. The portrait is unfinished. I'll never complete it now. She will never get to see it. I've shown her photos of its progress, and she laughed with delight over every fresh edit. But I'll never hear her laugh again. My fingers close on the cloth and thrust it sharply over the easel. I should throw it away in the morning. I'll never be able to look at it again anyway. Swallowing tears, I retreat into the kitchen and fling my purse on the table. Running my hands through the short blonde hair I'd shaved away with Alyssa three years ago, I take a couple deep breaths. I never imagined anything could hurt this much. Sadness is a cold weight on my heart. It's as though my heart is draped in blackness, like it's wearing mourning clothes for my sister's death. She shouldn't have died. It's not fair. She didn't deserve this. How am I supposed to live without her? In an effort to give myself something to do, I reach over for my purse. Feeling around for my phone, my fingers encounter a folded wad of paper. Frowning, I pull it out, snagging the phone on the way. Oh, that's right. Alyssa gave me a letter this morning, and I haven't had time to read it yet. It hadn't been long after she'd given it to me that everything began to go downhill.... I put the paper down. I need a minute before I read it. Tapping open the photos on my phone, I thumb through the images. A small smile forces its way onto my lips. How many selfies have I taken with Alyssa, anyway? Then there are the pictures I'd planned to use as reference... Abruptly, I drop my phone. Not going to look at those anymore. When will the pain leave? How long do I have to live this way, flinching at anything that reminded me of my sister? I pick up the wad of paper, toying with it. Fire has torn its way through my life, starting with Alyssa's diagnosis, and now it has burned itself out, and all that's left are the ashes – and lingering agony. I realize that my tense fingers are biting into the paper. Relaxing them, I unfold the letter. Lines of Alyssa's delicate half-cursive script cross the page. Hey, Meghan. Thought I should write this for you. Just in case things get... tense today. I can't talk about everything, but somehow it helps to write it down. The doctors say my chances are low. I understand that. I just want you to know that I know, that I won't be surprised when all of this comes to an end. Tears flood my eyes now, and I have to blink them away before I can keep reading. I have to explain something to you, though, because this isn't going to be easy for anybody. Give Mom and Dad this letter, too. I don't think I'll be able to copy it out. But I have to say this to you. Everything about this situation feels totally unfair. Why did I have to get cancer? I'm sixteen, I don't even have my driver's license, didn't even take the SAT, not applying to college next year. But that's how it turned out. And yeah, of course it's not fair. Life isn't fair, and life will never be fair as long as sin exists in it. I've had time (heh heh) to think about this recently, and I've come to the conclusion that basically, yeah, it's not fair, but it's not the end of the story. I have a metaphor for you. I think you're gonna like it, since you're an (incredible!!!) artist. Guess what, Meghan? I'm a clay jar! Okay, read 2 Corinthians 4:7. Better yet, please tell me you remember it. Oh, that one. We have this treasure in jars of clay. I dimly remember that 2 Corinthians chapter four was a favorite of Alyssa's. We have this treasure (the gospel) in jars of clay. Our bodies are jars of clay. Job says we're made out of clay (ch.10:9) and then of course Isaiah 64:8 says we are the clay and God is the potter. So yeah. I'm a jar made of clay. And that's not an easy thing to be but it's so comforting. Let me clarify. That means that I'm not in control. Clay jars can't control everything, 'cause they can't control anything! That means someone made me. Clay jars need a Potter. That means someone knows best what to do with me. Clay jars are best used by the one who created them. Whether I'm a clay jar used to hold water or a clay jar used to carry flowers or a clay jar just sitting way back on a shelf, I'm being used as is best for me. And if I have to shatter into millions of clay pieces, hey, that's best for me too. I think the shattering is coming soon for me. But it's fine. I'm just a clay jar and the Potter knows best. I think sometimes we think we're so capable, like we could run the world, you know? But the one who made it is the only one who really can (and does!) take care of it. I brush tears away from my cheeks. It really is comforting. I'm in safe hands, you see! So, I don't mind being a jar of clay, Meghan. Alrighty, I should stop for now. Love you big sister Alyssa I don't mind being a jar of clay. I sit for a moment, thinking. Then I put the paper down. Resolutely, I cross to the living room. Shadows drape the room, swathing my furniture in mourning attire. But Alyssa isn't grieving anymore. I walk forward to the window and tug the curtains aside. There must be light outside now. Yes, dawn has come. The sun has risen over the world. Its rays slip into my living room, sweeping out the shadows left over from last night, ushering in gentle beauty. I toss the cloth covering off my easel. It falls lightly onto the floor at my feet. Then I select a narrow, paint-smeared brush. As beams of light dance around me, I began to stroke color onto the canvas, watching Alyssa's face take on dimension and life under my fingertips. How did I ever think I could possibly throw it away? Love you little sister. “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” -2 Corinthians 4:7. Maria Copeland is a 17-year-old storyteller, artist, and ENFJ whose passions include books, allergy-free baking, and photography. Inspired by several years with the National Bible Bee, she also loves committing Scripture to memory. Currently she divides her time between her senior year, a magazine ministry, blogging, writing a YA historical fiction novel, and driving her family's 15-passenger van. Her “Beauty for Ashes” story is completely fictional, but her health adventures also remind her that she's “a jar of clay” in the hands of a skillful Potter. Tell Maria what you think in the comments below!
8 Comments
3/24/2018 10:57:05 pm
Oh wow, thank you so much, Grace! I'm so glad it was meaningful to you. :)
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3/25/2018 09:04:34 pm
My goodness, this was so good that it blew me away! I loved it, it was so powerful and I was so inspired by it. Thank you so much for it, Maria! <3
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Maria,
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This page of my blog is dedicated specifically to writers. I've been writing for over half of my life. I live and breathe writing. Because of that, I'm passionate about helping other writers grow, develop, and succeed. This section of my blog will include blog posts dedicated to writing, encouragement, and resources. Feel free to read through some posts and my contact form is always open if you ever have any questions or need encouragement! ♥ Archives
April 2018
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