Welcome,
Dear soul.
Sit down for a few quiet moments and let this story pour round into your heart.
A tale about pride,
Loss,
And rebirth.
Sometimes,
When life cracks us open,
The light comes in.
And this is the story of the teapot.
There was once a proud teapot.
Proud of being porcelain.
Proud of her long spout and wide handle.
She had something in front and behind.
The spout in front and the handle behind.
And she thought about it.
But she didn't talk about her lid,
For it was cracked and mended with sealing wax.
We all have defects,
She said.
I know it and I confess it.
My defect is known and there's an end of it.
Cracks and defects are what we all have.
The plate,
The soup tureen,
And the sugar bowl.
They all have defects.
I have them,
Too.
And I'm frank enough to admit it.
The sugar bowl is too short in the neck.
The soup tureen has a handle missing.
And I know perfectly well that I am the most distinguished of all of them.
I have both handle and spout.
And they are placed opposite each other,
Which is very rare in our family.
I am the queen here.
The teapot,
Being so proud,
Was lifted up and carried to the table by the hand that held her.
But the hand was clumsy.
The teapot slipped,
Fell,
And broke her spout clean off on one side and her handle on the other.
The lid didn't suffer,
But the worst had come to the teapot.
The teapot lay in the sink the next morning,
Full of water.
She could easily have wept had she been filled with tears instead of water.
So it is with me,
She said.
I am cast down,
And I,
Who once was queen of the table,
Am now only fit for the dustbin.
Oh,
How quickly all is over.
Once we are up,
Once we are down.
None of us are safe.
The pieces will be thrown away.
And yet,
Perhaps not.
A good fortune may still turn.
I remember that once there was a flower,
But not unlike myself,
In shape,
Which became highly honored and stood in the garden.
Maybe I,
Too,
Can have a similar destiny.
And so it happened.
The teapot was not thrown away,
But carried out to the garden where flowers were planted in her.
The broken handle and spout were covered up in the earth,
And only the upper part was seen.
The teapot forgot all about her brokenness,
And only rejoiced in the life and beauty of the flowers growing inside her.
I am not the same as before,
She said,
But I have grown nobler.
I have learned that there is a secret joy in giving life and beauty to others.
I might have been thrown away,
But instead I am reborn.
The End
