Imperfection.

Right then, here’s my second favourite parable.

Once there was a poor farmer who lived in the hills, several miles from the nearest well. Every morning he had to walk those weary miles with two buckets to fetch the day’s water. One of the buckets was new and in perfect condition; the other was old and had a small hole in the bottom.

The trip took several hours, and when the farmer returned, the new bucket was always full but the old bucket was half empty, having leaked much of its water along the way. Eventually the old bucket could stand the shame no longer.

‘I am so sorry,’ it said to the farmer. ‘You do all that work and I cannot help losing half the precious water. You must be very angry. You should throw me away and get a new bucket.’

The farmer took the bucket to the door and pointed to the track along which they walked.

‘Do you see how there are flowers growing on one side of the track only?’ he said. ‘That’s the side I always carry you on. I have no time in my busy life to cultivate flowers, and so I rely on you to do it for me. I am not angry; I bless and thank you for your imperfection. It brings forth great beauty.’

***************

‘Why are you talking to a bucket?’ asked the farmers wife.

...no she didn’t. That’s just me being mischievous. It’s one of my imperfections.