Being Transformed

I am not who I was.

I am changing still and it is unknown who and what I will become. Like clay I am formed; even transformed into something new.

At some point I hope to be finished.

But now, O Lord, You are our Father,
We are the clay, and You our potter;
And all of us are the work of Your hand.

I have no right to question why our Father has made me who I am. I am His design.

Here is today’s beauty.