This is an ancient story, told in many ways throughout the ages. It's always touched me, and I'd like to share my version:
Every morning at sunrise, the woodsman shouldered his thick pole with large water pots on both sides and began his strenuous journey down the mountainside to the stream. The pot over his right shoulder was smooth, round and perfect in every way.
The pot on the left, however, had come from the kiln a little misshapen, with a slight crack running down one side.
At the stream, the woodsman knelt down and filled each pot to the brim, then began carrying his heavy load back up the mountain. The perfect pot never lost a drop of water. The cracked pot leaked and was always half empty when the woodsman arrived back home.
After a few years, the cracked pot could take it no more and cried out in despair, “Oh Master, I am a terrible pot and I have served you so poorly!
Why haven’t you thrown me away and replaced me with another perfect pot?”
“Ahhhh,” the woodsman lovingly replied, “there is nothing wrong with you.”
“But I leak half my water every time,” the cracked pot moaned, “I am not worthy of serving you. Please break me to pieces and cast me onto the forest floor.”
“Do you see the beautiful flowers along the left side of the path from our home to the stream?” the woodsman asked. “They are there because of you.
When I noticed your leak years ago, I planted flower seeds on that side of the path.
This is why you are always on my left shoulder. Now I see the beautiful blossoms every day and smell their fragrance, and you water them as we go.
It makes the journey back up the mountain so much easier.
So you see, in your own way, you are a very perfect pot.”
Each of us has our flaws and imperfections.
Yet, in our own unique ways, every one of is perfect and has something