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“With silver ink, the scribe had copied one verse from the prophet Isaiah. Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. "How beautiful. I don't know how to thank you, my lady." "No need for thanks." Esther smiled. "As a potter, you must be familiar with this verse." "I have heard it a time or two, lady." "Yes. But I want you to set your gaze upon the first line. How can you be an orphan when you have a Father in God? As a potter, you might appreciate the allusion and understand the rest of the verse better than most. But as an orphan girl, you have to learn all about the first claim. Seek your Father, that he may heal you.” — Tessa Afshar
With silver ink, the scribe had copied one verse from the prophet Isaiah.
Yet you, LORD, are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.
"How beautiful. I don't know how to thank you, my lady."
"No need for thanks." Esther smiled. "As a potter, you must be familiar with this verse."
"I have heard it a time or two, lady."
"Yes. But I want you to set your gaze upon the first line. How can you be an orphan when you have a Father in God? As a potter, you might appreciate the allusion and understand the rest of the verse better than most. But as an orphan girl, you have to learn all about the first claim. Seek your Father, that he may heal you.