…Come to Me…Mathew 11:28 NLT

IMG_0777Not quiet a year ago, we made the move from “city slickers” to “country dwellers”.  We packed up, loaded up and made the 11.6 mile journey from city to country.

A few years back, we discussed this very move.

Digging in with all my womanly, persuasive charms…aka…pouting, stomping, dignified, yes dignified yelling, and cold shoulder, proclaimed I WOULD NEVER, EVER move that far out of town. Never. 11.6 miles from all that was familiar and comfortable to me, was not an option. It seemed so far. Not to mention all those conveniences I was convinced I couldn’t live with out.

Not that where we lived was all that great. The house was old. Needed a lot of work neither of us wanted to commit to. The neighborhood was becoming more and more questionable at best. And I had already had not one, but two, close encounters with a certain slithering species with no feet in MY habitat!  Two encounters provoking the “guttural cry of terror”, bringing my man running at breakneck speed. Unacceptable, as one of my grandchildren used to say. Unacceptable.

Needless to say God had one set of plans while I was busy making others, and soon I found myself a “country dweller”.

I’ve taken to country life. Love it in fact.

Wrapped it around me like a warm blanket and fuzzy socks.

And my man, well let’s just say he’s too stinking cute driving the tractor in his straw hat. Makes my heart flutter as he passes by with a smile and a wave.

Nevertheless, there are two things I miss about city living. Trash pick up and my recycle bin.

Nowadays, we have to collect up our trash and carry it to one of the “trash collection sites”. It’s harder to recycle, keeping multiple cans. Apparently we are “trashy” people requiring at least a trip a day or every other day. It’s a real thorn in my foot, being just the tiniest bit OCD.

As I was lamenting(sounds much better than complaining or whining) over the trash issue. The issue I have not come to grips with, I began to ponder the pouring out of myself and the pouring in of God. Dumping my trash.


 A few years ago I read the above book, Mended by Angie Smith. A beautiful, heart wrenching story, worth your time.

Smith writes of smashing the pitcher as a form of therapy after the loss of a child. A child that breathed life for mere hours, then passed into the arms of The Lord.

But I have to confess, it wasn’t so much the story that pulled me in. It was the cover.

The broken pitcher. All those pieces. Smashed. Trashed. Put back together.

When I gazed on that broken pitcher glued back together, I saw me. My own brokenness. My imperfection. Pieces of a life made whole. Cracks and crevices for Gods light and love to shine in and through.

If I daily tip that pitcher and pour out me.

It’s a lot like taking a trip to the trash collection center.

Dying to self. Getting over myself. Moving out of His way. Giving room for The Potter to do His thing.

Its confessing to God. Dumping the trash I allow to pile up. And can I just tell you, I collect just as much trash in my soul, if not more, than I do around my house.

Once I’ve emptied that pitcher, my vessel, I can beg Him to pour into me. Beg Him to become greater and greater in me. (John 30:27).

Letting His Light shine through all the cracks of my brokenness. Healing me. Loving Me.

Praying to be a vessel which allows His Light to shine through me and onto others.

It’s a daily thing. This pouring out and pouring in. The pouring through.

…”come to Me”…He says

It’s the going to Him. It’s what holds together my brokenness. Loves me inspite of it. Chooses me because of it.

“But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his special favor on me…” 1 Corinthians 15:10a NLT

To live life poured out as an offering to God.

“As for me, my life has already been poured out as an offering to God.” 2Timothy 4:6a NLT

Dare to live like this. Poured out as an offering to Him.


The cover on my book is worn. I pull it out time and time again. I’ve searched high and low for a picture similar. Something to remind me. To look at. To remember.

God works through brokenness. Praise Him! His Light shines through it.

Your story~my story wrapped up in it.

And it is the pouring out and pouring back in~breathes life into the soul.


“Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my own words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seems good to the potter to do. 

Then the word of the Lord came to me: “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Isreal.” Jeremiah 18:2-6 ESV

Graced by God

Tammy Mashburn