There are some things we can fix with our own hands.
We can mend a broken fence, replenish tired soil, prune an overgrown plant, and tend a struggling garden back to health.
But we cannot force another person’s heart to change.
Estrangement from a child, parent, sibling, other family member, or dear friend carries a unique kind of grief. We may long for another conversation, another chance to listen, an opportunity to apologize, or simply an open door where there has been silence.
Sometimes, after we have done all we know to do, the only thing left is to place that person into God’s hands.
That is why I created 31 Days of Prayer for Estranged Family & Friends: A Journey of Surrender, Healing, Forgiveness & Restoration.
I am hoping to make a new devotional for each month this year… that’s a big challenge, but it is something that has been on my heart. For AUGUST, our monthly theme will be GOODNESS. We will be trying to find ways to show a little more GOODNESS through routines and habits.
Last month’s theme was SELF-CONTROL and let me tell you that LIFE sure has a way of putting our lessons to the test but GOD is GOOD and HE has seen us through some difficulties and HE can do the same for you!
Here is the FREE printable, if you’d like to join us:
Pip: Welcome back to Pollywog’s Place Blog — where the cracks in the clay are apparently the whole point.
Mara: Susie at Pollywog’s Place Blog has been writing about something that cuts pretty close to home for a lot of people — what it means to feel broken, flawed, and still worthy of purpose. Let’s start with that question.
God uses cracked pots
Pip: The central tension here is one most people recognize immediately — the gap between who you think you should be and who you actually are, and whether that gap disqualifies you from anything that matters.
Mara: The post opens with a verse from Jeremiah 18:4 that frames everything that follows: “And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.”
Pip: So the upshot is: being marred isn’t the end of the story. The potter doesn’t discard the clay — he works with it again. That reframe is doing a lot of heavy lifting.
Mara: The post names exactly what that marring looks like in practice — comparison, the “if onlys,” doubting your abilities. Things like wishing you had more money, were a better mom, looked different. The internal list most people carry quietly.
Pip: And then it pivots somewhere unexpected. It isn’t just that God tolerates your cracks — the argument is that the cracks are actually the mechanism. Light gets out through them.
Mara: That’s stated directly: “His light will shine out brighter and brighter with every crack. So in a sense, the more cracked and broken we become as we surrender our will to His will, then the more He will be able to use us for His glory.”
Pip: Which reframes shame entirely. The crack isn’t evidence of failure — it’s the opening.
Mara: The post also points to the parable of the cracked pot — a separate story linked in the piece — which illustrates the same idea through a water-bearer whose leaking pot waters wildflowers along the path without knowing it.
Pip: Useful without being aware of it. That’s a quietly generous image.
Mara: The closing call is practical: don’t hide the cracks, don’t be ashamed of the flaws, ask for help accepting them. The promise attached is that something more beautiful gets made in the process.
Pip: Broken clay, wildflowers, light through cracks — there’s a whole theology of imperfection sitting in this one.
Mara: And more from Pollywog’s Place to come. See you next time.
Pip: Welcome to Pollywog’s Place Blog — where the posts are personal, the stakes are real, and nobody is pulling punches.
Mara: Susie at Pollywog’s Place Blog wrote something this week that takes on prenatal diagnosis, medical pressure, and what it actually looks like to say no — repeatedly — when doctors are certain they know better.
Pip: Let’s start with that story.
Down Syndrome Shouldn’t Be a Death Sentence
Mara: The post opens a question that cuts to the bone: when a prenatal diagnosis arrives loaded with worst-case projections, who actually gets to decide what a child’s life is worth?
Pip: The answer, in this case, came appointment after appointment, and it was the same every time. Here’s the line that captures the whole experience: “At every MFM appointment I was asked if I was ready to schedule ‘the procedure’ — I was told that it would be simple, we could try again in a couple of months, and this was just a rare occurrence that we wouldn’t have to worry about happening again.”
Mara: What that means in practice is that the medical framing wasn’t neutral. It was a campaign. The word “procedure” does a lot of work when you use it to describe ending a pregnancy — it flattens the decision into something routine.
Pip: And the pressure didn’t stop at clinical language. Two weeks before the birth, she was told she was being selfish for refusing. That’s not a medical opinion — that’s something else entirely.
Mara: The post is careful to say it isn’t condemning anyone who has faced this choice differently. But it does make a pointed argument: doctors were presenting opinions as facts. They said Shyanne would never walk, would never have a happy life, would be a burden to her other children. Post-birth genetic testing couldn’t even fully confirm the original diagnoses.
Pip: They called it a rare occurrence that wouldn’t happen again — which is a remarkable thing to say about a child who was, at that moment, doing somersaults.
Mara: She frames the core message plainly: “A disability should not be a death sentence for any child who hasn’t even had the chance to live yet.” And she points toward adoption as a real alternative for families who feel unequipped, noting there are communities and support groups that offer something a single genetics appointment simply cannot — time, experience, and people who have actually been there.
Pip: Shyanne defied every projection. She’s described as healthy, active, and, to use the post’s own words, able to light a room.
Mara: The post ends where it began — with faith, and with the insistence that fear of uncertainty is not the same thing as information.
Pip: One post, one family’s experience — and it raises something that stays with you.
Mara: When the data runs out, the question of who decides is still very much open.
In today’s garden reflection, I’m sharing what the Lord has been teaching me about faithfulness through the simple rhythms of tending a garden.
Gardening reminds us that growth takes time. Seeds are planted long before they’re seen, and harvest comes only after seasons of patient care. In the same way, God calls us to remain faithful in the small things, trusting Him even when we can’t yet see what He’s doing beneath the surface.
Whether you’re in a season of planting, tending, waiting, or harvesting, I pray this post encourages you to trust God’s timing and rest in His unfailing faithfulness.
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