The Little Orange Bowl

I remember the first time I saw a glassblower at work. Even though, I was just a little kid on a school field trip, I was completely mesmerized. It was beauty being born before my very eyes. I’m still mesmerized by glassblowing, so much so that I’m writing a novel about a glassblower.

This September, I had the amazing opportunity to do some glassblowing of my own in an Italian glass factory on the famed island of Murano, which is just a quick boat ride from Venice — another famed island. Here are a few pictures of that experience.

The teacher let me create my own design. I wanted a smallish, fluted bowl of deep red with a few tiny swirls of orange and yellow. I made the bowl — with a LOT of help from the teacher and then we put in the annealer, which is a special cool-down oven. I opted to have it shipped home instead of carrying with me the rest of our trip. All glass looks red when it is hot enough to be partially liquid. It’s not until it’s cooled that the true color is revealed.

Two weeks after I returned from Italy, my bowl arrived. Boy howdy, was I excited. Here’s what I was expecting. Well, not exactly that because that’s a real work of art. But something like that.

But here’s what I pulled out of the box. That’s right, it’s orange! It’s not deep red, medium red or any shade of red. I must say that I am not a lover of orange. (Though I do love the Broncos.) On top of that, the fluted part of the bowl is lopsided. I was deeply disappointed.

I have a centerpiece on my dining room table of several glass blown animals. I put the bowl in the middle of them. I kept seeing it out of the corner of my eye. And, I kept being disappointed by it. But then, the Lord, the Shepherd of my heart, spoke to me that super gentle, kind and loving voice he has. He said, “I have a message for you in that bowl.” At that moment, I became very curious and mostly stopped being disappointed.

I set it in front of me and let myself feel and observe. I asked myself that greatest of all questions, WHY? Why am I disappointed? And the answer? It’s not perfect. And, WHY does it have to be perfect? Because…if it isn’t…well…something’s wrong with it.

Then, I just stopped because I knew this was about me and how much I think I have to be perfect. I have many flaws that I have hated all my life because they keep me from my perfect life of being perfect. Perfectly thin, perfectly beautiful, perfectly orderly, perfectly relational, perfectly accomplished. perfectly humorous, perfectly Christian, perfectly disciplined, perfectly executing my gifts of writing, speaking, piano, perfectly fixing myself and everything else and the list can go on much, much longer.

The other night, my dear friend Meredith shared a story of how she was avoiding finishing a job for a client because it was, “so far from perfect.” That rang so deep inside of me. That’s me — so far from perfect. I am that orange-spotted, not red, lopsided bowl. But then, my beloved Shepherd spoke to me again, saying that being less than perfect, being flawed and even lopsided was his perfect design for me.

Wait. Stop. What??? That can’t be right. I can’t just accept all those flawed, dysfunctional parts of me. I need to FIX them.

But… what if? What if it’s true? What if all those un-perfect parts of me are really exactly what I’m perfectly designed by God to be? And what if I have a work to do that requires some or all of those flaws? What if those less than ideal parts of me open a door or build a bridge or shine a light?

I’m looking at myself differently now. I’m starting to relax about being so flawed. Even letting myself kinda like those imperfect parts.

And — I’m seeing this little bowl differently. It’s actually very pretty. It’s bright and cheerful. It’s got these lovely swirls on it. And I made it! In Murano! There’s a lot to love about this bowl — if I will stop demanding that it be perfect.