The little cracked pot...

There was once a water bearer who 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, but 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 master’s house, while the
cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with
the bearer delivering only one and a half pots
full of water to his master’s house. Of course,
the perfect pot was proud of its
accomplishments, perfect to the end for which
it was made.
But the poor cracked pot was very ashamed of
its imperfection, and was miserable that it
could only do half of what it had been made to
do — or so it thought.The cracked pot, after
two years of what it perceived to be a bitter
failure, spoke to the water bearer one day by
the stream.
“I am very ashamed of myself, and I want to
apologize to you.”
“Why?” asked the water bearer. “What are you
ashamed of?”
“For the past two years, I have only been able
to deliver half of my real capacity, because
this crack in my side allows water to leak out
all the way back to the master’s house.
Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this
work, and you don’t get full value from your
efforts,” the cracked pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked
pot, and compassionately said, “As we return
to the master’s house, I want you to notice the
beautiful flowers along the path.”
As they went up the hill, the old cracked pot
did notice the sun shining on the beautiful wild
flowers growing along his side of the path, and
this cheered it some. However, at the end of
the trail, it still felt bad because it had again
leaked out half its load, and so it apologized to
the water bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice
that there were flowers only on your side of
the path, but not on the other pot’s side?
That’s because I have always known about your
flaw, and put it to good use. I planted flower
seeds on your side of the path (for the return
trip), and every day while we walk back from
the stream, you’ve watered them. For over two
years I have been able to pick these beautiful
flowers to decorate my master’s table. If you
weren’t the way you are, he wouldn’t have the
flowers for his house.”