The Two Pots

I'm not really a "chicken soup for the soul" kind of person, but the following unattributed tale got to me:

A Water Bearer in China had two pots, each hung on the ends of a pole, which he carries across his back.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot always arrived only half-full.

For a full two years, this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his house. Of course the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it was made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes my water to leak out all the way back to your house."

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path but none on the other pot's side? I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path and every day, when we walk back, you water them. Without you being just the way you are, we would not have such beauty."