the Pottery Studio
Come sit at the wheel. There’s clay under our fingernails, something learning to be a bowl, and a place for you here.
The room is quiet until you choose sound. Real workshop moments, no music.
Read the ambient scene descriptions
At the wheel, a mound of clay turns under practiced guidance. Hands open and shape a small vessel. An adult gently supports a child’s hands as they pull the clay upward. The scene closes on finished speckled dishes. In the background, family voices offer small instructions and encouragement.
The Potter’s hands
My husband took pottery in high school. He was surprised to discover he was actually pretty good at it when his teacher encouraged him to enter some of his work in a state competition.
Throughout our marriage, he would occasionally talk about how much he had loved pottery. But life happened, years passed, and he never really had the opportunity to do it again.
About 20 years into our marriage, I decided to surprise him with a date night at a pottery studio.
He sat down at the wheel, threw down a lump of clay, and started making pottery as though 20 years hadn’t passed at all.
I remember the instructor watching him and being so impressed. He told him it was obvious he was meant to do this.
And just like that, an old love was rediscovered.
It was during COVID, and we eventually found a pottery studio about 30 minutes from our home where he could come and go at any hour. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d drive over in the middle of the night and throw pottery.
I remember going with him sometimes just to watch.
There was something incredibly peaceful about seeing him at that wheel. Pottery is messy. It requires patience, strength, and a willingness to start over when things don’t turn out quite right.
I remember watching his hands as he worked to center the clay. He would press down on it, then pull it back up, over and over again.
And I remember thinking how much that looked like the way God works with us.
Sometimes we’re pressed down. Sometimes we’re stretched and pulled in directions that feel terribly uncomfortable. And sometimes we can’t understand why He keeps working the same places over and over again.
But the Potter knows what He’s doing.
He’s working to center us on Him.
I’ve thought about that moment so many times since.
I love that my husband makes pottery. I love that our shelves are filled with bowls and plates and mugs made by his hands. I love that we use them every single day, and that our children have developed a love for pottery too.
In fact, I loved his pottery so much that one day, while he was at work, I tore out the upper cabinets in our kitchen so I could replace them with open shelves and display all the beautiful things he’d made.
He came home to quite the surprise.
But I wanted those things out where we could see them. Where we could use them. Where they could become part of our everyday lives.
Because there’s something special about things made by the hands of someone you love.
And there’s something even more special about remembering that we, too, are being shaped by loving hands.
There’s something special about the Potter’s hands.
Love, RachelA little patience. A lot of heart.
A closer look at the hands, the small steps, and the pieces that become part of our everyday lives.
“You’re allowed to be a beginner. You’re allowed to make something just because it makes you happy.”
Start here: find the center.
Before the bowl, there’s a little mound of clay. Beau’s patient lessons with the boys start with the same gentle idea: steady yourself, add a little water, and let your hands learn. We’re beginners too, so think of this as a first step to try with a teacher—not a master class.
Three gentle reminders
- Find your center.
Set the clay in the middle of the wheel. It doesn’t have to be perfect to begin.
- Give yourself some steadiness.
Rest your elbows on your legs when you can. Keep a little water nearby so the clay doesn’t stick or drag.
- Use gentle, steady pressure.
Guide the clay rather than fighting it. Pause, add water, and try again. That’s not failing; that’s learning.
Read the video transcript
Voice: Speed it up. I’ll tell you when. A little more. Not right there.
Student: There?
Voice: There. Yeah, just take it with me. As soon as it heats up, you start to feel friction, and you’ll just reach in and grab more water. You just put it right on the plate.
Student: How do I know when it’s centered? Like, which way do I need to put it?
Voice: It will have— [the sentence trails off]
Made to be lived with.
A bowl for little handfuls. A cup that feels familiar in your hands. A planter on a sunny shelf. The lovely part is when something we made becomes part of an ordinary day.
Nothing here is for sale just yet. This is simply a peek at what we’re making and learning together.
I’ll save you a seat at the wheel.
If we have pottery available in the future, I’d love to let you know. Leave your email for occasional studio notes—no pressure, no clutter, just a little hello when there’s something new.
You’re on the list for studio notes. We’ll save you a seat at the wheel.
Studio notes are not accepting sign-ups yet. No address is collected or sent from this preview. Rachel will connect the form separately after it has been tested.