When I was about 14, we had
a metalworking class at school. Most of the boys, it was an all boys school,
did one of a number of set projects. However being the awkward kid I was, none
of the set projects appealed to me. In discussing other options with the
metalwork teacher, it was agreed I would work on making a copper rose bowl,
something no other boy had ever done in his class.
The process of making the
rose bowl was not complex but it did take a lot of time to do and a reasonable
amount of skill. I started with a flat sheet of copper. This was initially cut
into a circle. The metal was then heated in the furnace until it was red hot.
Placing the heated metal over a round anvil, I then took a small hammer and
began to beat it. For the longest time, there was little shape or form to it.
The other boys looked on occasionally with curiosity, not knowing what I was
doing or having any idea how the finished product would look.
As the metal was drawn up,
folds would begin to appear and each of these had to be slowly beaten out. As
the metal cooled, it would be dipped in cold water and then the processes of
heating and beating would begin all over again. Literally dozens of heatings
and thousands of hammer beats went into the making of that bowl. Slowly over
the hours of work that went into its creation, the bowl began to take shape.
Each hammer beat seemed random to those that would stop to watch, but each was
made with a purpose and with an end in sight. Sometimes the metal would easily
comply and the hammer knocks were light. Other times it did not seem to go
where I needed it to and extra force and extra pounding was made on the copper
to make it comply with where I deemed it should go.
Finally when the desired
shape was achieved, the edge was trimmed and straightened and the surface
polished. When all was done I was extremely pleased with the piece and even my
teacher, who had largely left me to myself, was very impressed. So much so, that
for the rest of the year he tried persuading me to think about become a
silversmith. The finished product was proudly presented to my mother who had it
for many years until it eventually came back to me and is now among my most
prized possessions.
If you pick the bowl up and
examine it, you will see that its surface is covered in hundreds of tiny
indentations, testament to the many hammer beatings that it took to work it
into shape. But those minor imperfections to a smooth surface only add to its beauty.
As I have thought about
that bowl over the years, and the process that went into its making, I have
occasionally contemplated how much my life has been similar in the making. I
came into this world, very much as raw material with little idea of what I
would eventually become. As I have gone through life I have had to continually
face trials, which at times seemed unbearable. I have been knocked this way and
that way at every turn. Then just as things seemed to be sorting themselves
out, the whole process begins over again.
Sometimes I think I am
beginning to see the shape my life is taking, then at other times things seem
to turn direction and I am not sure any more what the end product might be. But
I do feel my life is being fashioned and shaped, bit by bit. I look forward to
seeing the masterpiece it will eventually become.
Each of our lives is a work
in progress. We may not know what the end result is meant to be. Sometimes the
difficulties we face may seem to have no reason; we may feel we cannot take any
more. We may feel embarrassed at what we might see as our flaws, or when things
seem to have taken the wrong turn. But somewhere in the universe are the hands
of a master, slowly working our lives into the beautiful shape he envisions for
us.
So the next time you feel
you are being knocked around in life, when adversity mounts, remember that each
beautiful object has to be slowly worked into shape. Take comfort that you are
in the Master's hands and that he desired something beautiful of you.
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