On the Potter's Wheel: Or Oh, Mother!
By Kate DeVault
()
About this ebook
Kate DeVault
Kate DeVault, graduated from Southwest Missouri State College in Springfield, Missouri, with a Master’s Degree in Education. She taught sixth grade in St. Louis, Mo., and was president of the Teacher’s Association. She has also taught fourth and fifth grade at New Horizon’s, a private school in Palm Harbor, FL. She served as a Sunday School teacher, a deacon and an elder in the Presbyterian Church of Palm Harbor. She also served as a part owner of a business supply rental firm, a secretary for an architectural firm, an employee of the State of Florida Family Services and church secretary for Northwood Presbyterian Church in Clearwater, FL. The purpose of this book is to show that our Father God has a sense of humor along with many other wonderful qualities that help us through all kinds of happenings throughout our lives, if we believe in Him and place ourselves in His hands...
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On the Potter's Wheel - Kate DeVault
On the
Potter’s
Wheel
OR OH, MOTHER!
Kate DeVault
38271.pngAuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: 1-800-839-8640
© 2014 Kate DeVault. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 11/19/2014
ISBN: 978-1-4969-3481-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4969-3479-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4969-3480-2 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014948581
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Dear Reader,
I WROTE THIS BOOK NOT
only to share the laughter of my life, but to show that side of our Heavenly Father we often neglect, and, therefore, fail to understand. Many of us simply go to church, come home and get on with our lives, forgetting to include God in each day. I’m not talking about praying on our knees – a formal way of contacting Him, but the many, many opportunities we have of including Him in all that we do. Yes, there is a time for formality, but my best time with Him is simply being with Him – on a walk, in a classroom, shopping (oh, yes, He goes shopping with me!) or, best of all, wrapping myself in His bedtime blanket of my memorized scripture, thoughts of others, talks with Him about things funny and sad
that happened that day, and a lot of other stuff. My Father always puts me to sleep when He feels I’ve
(or maybe He’s
) had enough. I find I’ve begun to talk to Him all the time – even in the shower, or when scrubbing dirty sinks.
I pray that when you read my story, you will work on your relationship with our Lord and find it will improve your life. He doesn’t enjoy only hearing all your I wants
and your I needs
or your I hurt,
so He gives you ways to get through being on His Potter’s Wheel
when you spend time with Him. And, wow, does He have a sense of humor! Jesus told us to Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice.
(Philippians 4:4) This scripture will put that smile on your face even after awful days, or when you have found yourself in a deplorable situation. You will remember that He is in charge. If you trust in Him with all your heart, He will make your path straight. Just knowing that can make you grin from ear to ear!
Sincerely, wishing many blessings for you and your family,
Kate DeVault
Dedication
THIS ATTEMPT TO SHARE GOD’S
sense of humor is dedicated to my younger (I mean little
) sister, Dee, and the memories of my father, mother and big brother, Curt. Along with my Heavenly Father, they shaped my life, grounding me in my church and giving me the senses for tracking the humor that keeps me going. Ernie, my first husband now deceased, inspired me also by teaching me about a life I might never have known without him. With his partnership, I learned to be a wife and a mother, gifted with four talented and funny children - Kathleen, Elizabeth, Tony and Dorothy, and four tremendously hilarious grandchildren - Emanuel, Madelyn, Maya and Dino - who perk me up when I am down. Then God gave me a church family who always are able to find a good laugh even in teary times
, like the death of the father of my children, due to their solid faith in our Heavenly Father. No matter what lesson
God is giving me, He always puts humor along with it -- especially through my wonderful husband/cousin (and his four children - believe it or not!) Larry. Imagine, if you will, the gift of a second husband with so many similarities of my first (although Larry is not Italian). Thank you, Heavenly Father, for all you do for me and all my families.
!
With huge gratefulness to God and all who have touched my life,
Kate DeVault
Prologue
THERE ONCE WAS A YOUNG
girl who thought she could conquer the world if only she were good enough. So she practiced being good. Everyone told her she was good–parents, teachers, friends. There were mistakes, but most of the time she succeeded: she was pretty good.
Never really good. It was frustrating. But she kept trying.
She met
the Lord when she was twelve; rather, He picked her up by the scruff of her collar and marched her to the front of the church to confess Him and to be baptized. Just like a good girl should.
Two years later, her father died—right after her grandmother and before her uncle. Not knowing death, she nervously laughed, picked up her heart and walked on. Still, since she was very young, she knew she could conquer the world, and to that end she studied and worked and planned. She would teach. And she did. She would have to leave home to do it. So, good-bye
family, good-bye
home and familiar surroundings, good-bye
safety. Welcome
unknown trials, strange surroundings. I can conquer the world!
She had adventures, minor but deeply felt setbacks, but still the world was there, and she was young and full of hope and plans.
Years passed. Suddenly, nothing was happening—just the same old—same old. She couldn’t understand. The mirror still reflected hope, yet everything seemed to be still—quiet even.
Enter Ernie, a gentle giant. She wanted desperately to be the love of his life, but that love had already been bestowed elsewhere. She was just a pick-up-the-pieces-hold-me-together Band-Aid. So she did. She was a very good Band-Aid. Perhaps now she would conquer the world. If this was conquering, it was really quick and busy. Whew!
Again, years passed. Then her best friend in all the world, who loved her when nobody else could or would, died: Mom. The pain was so great that surely conquering it would make her conquer the world. Weeks flew. Pain dulled, but never, ever left.
The time then came—never remotely anticipated—when news arrived that her beloved brother had taken a gun, put it to his temple, and had blown his brains out. Her reaction was, at first, shock. Next came anger. But always coping, comforting others as she had done with each ending before. This time, it was different. It didn’t have to be.
So came the justifications, the excuses, the reasons
why one would do such a thing. The comments others made, perhaps understandably (why would anyone think saying he could not go to heaven would be a comfort? They didn’t know what they were talking about anyway. Why do people spout off when their brains are empty?)
But the pain was excruciating—and the guilt. Surely, I could have sensed something, or done something, or said something, or prevented something—surely! Surely I could have loved more!
The feelings that hit her were breathtaking in their very unexpectedness. He had been—was—her big bruvo.
How could she have let this awful thing happen? She went back to being a Band-Aid, but somehow even this was questioned. If she was a good Band-Aid, why didn’t the boo-boo get well? Why wasn’t it protected?
Then her gentle giant became Ill, very seriously ill—ill unto death. She became busier than ever, for now she had her giant’s life things to do as well as her children’s and her own. And the children’s lives (all four!) suddenly became filled with problems, troubles and nightmares. Well, she thought, the world is not a very nice place. This conquering thing is really difficult.
And Death visited again. And again she had to be the comforter of others, for there were so many others suffering, too.
Time was so short, and there was so much to do. But she worked hard at trying. Depression set in more frequently, for the world didn’t seem to care that she was trying. Perhaps, she thought, the world isn’t worth conquering. She was shocked by the very thought. Still, she continued to care, and to try. She has tried now for almost eighteen long years. The world hasn’t gotten any nicer. Nor have people gotten any smarter—they still say the dumbest things, the most frequent being Why don’t you get married again?
or Why don’t your children do more for you?
She is not the crusader she once was–rather, her stuffing has been left bit-by-bit, little-by-little along the path—like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs. She gets very tired. She has no answers any more. But neither does she question so much: she endures. She works hard. She handles problems. She sleeps and eats and attends church. It has become very important to her to thank God for what He has given her, for He has given much, no matter the pain entwined. But conquer the world?
Who wants it?
Chapter
1
Genesis 1:1, 27-28
1) In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…27) So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. 28) God blessed them and said to them, Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.
EVERY MOTHER THINKS HARD AND
long about what name to give her precious baby. She gets all kinds of advice from relatives, from books and magazines, even from other expectant mothers while sitting in the doctor’s waiting room! These sweet mothers never consider the total amount of names we get as we grow older, names not under their control. Let me give you an example --
My name is Catherine Ann Swineford Pirro DeVault, aka Kate DeVault, Caroline Morgan
, Puddy,
Pudd,
Pudinski,
Sis,
Mom,
Marme, — or more meaningfully,
Oh, Mother! There are other names I have been given over the years —
Ol’ Baldy,
Spooky,
Pe-U-Kee, and
Princess, but they never stuck. I was born Catherine Ann Swineford to a Guy from Springfield, Missouri, and a Dorothy-lady from Morgantown, West Virginia, via Henrietta, Oklahoma.
Catherine means
pure and
Ann means
grace, according to books listing names to give a baby, but I was told
Swineford was a German name meaning
a swine or hog and a
fjord, or walkway over a stream. Kids in school used to up-date it to be
pig-puddle, or a
Ford (car) for pigs! I guess that made me
Puddy Pig-puddle"!
There were not a whole lot of babies in the newborn section of the hospital the day I was born in July of 1943. But because those present had either a full head of hair or one tooth in their little mouths, and I didn’t have either, the doctors thought it was funny, and they nicknamed me Ol’ Baldy.
My mother was insulted. After all, I was her first daughter, born nine whole years after her son, the first child of the family. So when her sister came to visit her in the hospital before they brought me home, she asked – Do you think she looks like ‘Ol’ Baldy?’
My aunt took her time before her answer. No,
she said, staring at me. I think she looks
Spooky. A little boy from up the street evidently heard about that nickname. He came and knocked on our door, asking if he could see little baby,
Pe-U-Kee! I guess he just couldn’t say
Spooky."
My dad thought he’d help mom’s hurt feelings. He took her to the movies a short while after they brought me home. A cartoon made them laugh – I Tawt I Thaw a Puddy Tat
– and they decided to call me Puddy Tat.
I never understood