A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full

A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full pot of water, the cracked pot arrived only half full at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house.

This went on for years, with the water bearer faithfully delivering one and a half pots of water to his master's house each day. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, boasting about how it never wasted a single drop. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it could only accomplish half of what it had been made to do.

One day, as they rested by the stream, the cracked pot finally spoke to the water bearer, tears in its voice. "I want to apologize to you," it said. "For years, I have only delivered half of what I should. My crack causes water to leak all the way back to the house. I am a failure."

The water bearer smiled kindly and said, "Have you noticed the flowers on your side of the path?"

The cracked pot looked up, confused. "Flowers?"

"Yes," the water bearer continued. "I always knew about your flaw, so I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds along your side of the path, and every day, as we walked back, you watered them. For years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. If you had been perfect, the path would be barren, and there would be no beauty along the way."

The cracked pot sat in stunned silence, realizing that even its imperfection had a purpose.

The perfect pot, listening from the other side, huffed and muttered, "Great. Now I feel useless."