for all my wonderful Crack Pot friends....... | Arthritis Information

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An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck.

 

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 walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

 

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.

 

Of course , the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.

 

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do..

 

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream

 

'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.'

 

The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? '

 

'That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.'


'For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.


Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.'


Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.


You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

 

SO, to all of my crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path!

Hee hee... I'M a cracked pot!  Thanks for showing me the worth of my flaws, RA and all!
Very good. It reminds me of one of my rare moments of wisdom, when I was only 20.
 
During college years, my future husband and dorm friends had parties at which we would all sit on floor in a circle and pass the guitar around. Us girlfriends sang along as each of the guys took his turn. One time, the boy next to me confided how he was always so embarrassed to be the only guy on their dorm floor who couldn't play the guitar. I said to him, "But, Ken, you must be so popular!" which baffled him. I explained "just think about it.. you are the only true listener, the only one who isn't busy in his mind planning what song he will play next!" He looked at me and broke out in a big smile.
CathyMarie 

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