The Two Pots – What You Thought Was a Flaw Was a Gift

There was once a water bearer who carried two large clay pots, each slung on the ends of a wooden pole across her shoulders.

One of the pots was perfect. It held water without spilling a drop.

The other had a crack. Not a big one. But enough.

Every time she returned from the stream, the cracked pot had lost half of what it carried.

This went on for two years.

Every morning: down to the stream.

Every afternoon: back again.

The perfect pot stayed full. Proud. Whole.

The cracked pot stayed silent.

Until one day, it spoke.

“I’m ashamed,” it whispered.

“I’ve failed you. I lose half of what you give me. I’m broken.”

The water bearer paused.

And then she smiled.

“Have you noticed the flowers?” she asked.

And the cracked pot looked—really looked—for the first time.

There, along its side of the path, was a trail of wildflowers.

Bright. Blooming. Reaching toward the light.

“I knew you had a crack,” she said.

“So I planted seeds along your side of the trail.

And every day, as we walked, you watered them.”

“For two years, you’ve been making beauty.

Not in spite of your crack but because of it.”

Let the Story Speak

 This is a story that doesn’t need much explanation. It’s one we feel.

Because we’ve all been the cracked pot.

The one who doesn’t hold it all.

Who forgets, or spills, or feels too soft to be of use.

And maybe…

we’ve also been the one who didn’t realise we’ve been watering flowers the whole way through.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’re in a season of shame, of not-enoughness, of wondering what’s wrong with you, remember this:

The world doesn’t only need full pots.

It needs cracked ones too.

Because healing doesn’t always look like strength.

Sometimes it looks like softness.

Like leaking.

Like being held together by breath and hope.

And even that can water something beautiful.

You are not broken.