Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. Then I went down to the potter’s house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. 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. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel. Jeremiah 18:2-6
Life settled in ok. In some ways it seemed this long distance marriage had the benefit of not having to deal with how different we were. Before I married Terry, I had placed one rule. “You do not know the history of all my children have had to face. You will not interfere in how I choose to discipline, raise, or guide my children. If you disagree with what I have done; then, you will tell me in private. I will take your thoughts into consideration.” He swore to abide by this rule and did. Actually, he never even took the time to speak with or get to know my sons. All seemed well. Comfortable at least. 
When the Master Potter choses to remake you, what then?
I began to wonder about getting my Master’s Degree to become a Nurse Practitioner. Maybe then, I could better support my family. When I applied to Vanderbilt, Terry told me, “You won’t get accepted there. I’ve known too many nurses who tried and that school is too hard to get in to.” But I was accepted right away, and was asked to start in September 1997. I thought about delaying, except Alberto and Ronald both told me to “do it.” They assured me that they could be responsible enough to manage the house and attend high school each day. I trusted them to do just that and told them so. They were
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