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A Heavy Morning

Jeremiah woke before the sun and could not sleep again. His heart felt like a bag of stones. For years he had carried hard words to the people of Judah. He had begged them to turn back to God, and they had laughed. Some days he wondered if anything he said could ever matter.

That morning, a quiet word came to him like a hand on his shoulder. Go down to the potter's house, the word said. There I will let you hear what I have to tell you. Jeremiah pulled on his cloak and stepped into the cool morning street. He did not know it yet, but a lesson was waiting in the mud.

Down to the Potter's House

The potter's house stood near the valley, close to good clay and water. A potter is a person who shapes wet clay into pots, jars, and bowls. Jeremiah heard the workshop before he saw it. A steady creak and a low hum drifted through the open door.

Shelves lined the walls, crowded with pots waiting for the hot kiln. A kiln is a special oven that bakes clay until it turns hard. The air smelled of wet earth and wood smoke. It was a plain place, but careful work filled every corner of it.

Inside, the potter sat bent over his wheel, a flat stone disk that spun. He kicked a lower stone with his foot to keep the wheel turning. A lump of gray clay spun at the center, wet and shining. The potter's hands were wrinkled like old riverbanks, yet they moved with quiet skill. He pressed his thumbs down, and the lump opened like a flower. The thin walls of a jar began to rise between his fingers. Jeremiah stood in the doorway and watched, forgetting his heavy heart.