Lessons for the Heart and Soul

Compiled here are little stories that teach, I believe, good lessons. I've recieved these from friends or found them on the internet. They are very much like stories you read out of thoes "Chicken Soup for the..." books. I hope you enjoy these and take a little something with you that may improve your life.

The Cracked Pot
Five Lessons Tears of a Child

The Cracked Pot

A water bearer in India had two large pots,
each hung on each end of a
pole which he carried across his neck.
One of the pots had a crack in
it, and while the other pot was perfect and
always delivered a full
portion of water at the end of the long
walk from he stream to the
master's house, 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 ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it was
able to accomplish only half of
what it had been made to do. After two
years of what it perceived to be
a bitter failure, it spoke to the water
bearer one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to
apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you
ashamed of?"
"I have been able, for these past two
years, to deliver only half my
load because this crack in my side causes
water to leak out all the way
back to your 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 pot
The water bearer felt sorry for the old
cracked pot, and in his
compassion he said, "As we return to the
master's house, I want you to
notice the beautiful flowers along the
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old
cracked pot took notice of the
sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on
the side of the path, and this
cheered it some. But at the end of the
trail, it still felt bad because
it had leaked out half its load, and so
again it apologized to the
bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice
that there were flowers only
on your side of your path, but not on the
other pot's side? That's because I have always known about
your flaw, and I took advantage
of it. I planted flower seeds on your side
of the path, and every day
while we walk back from the
stream, you've watered them.
For two years I have been able to pick
these beautiful flowers to
decorate my master's table. Without you
being just the way you are, he
would not have this beauty to grace
his house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're
all cracked pots. But if we
will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws
to grace His Father's table.
In God's great economy, nothing goes to
So as we seek ways to minister together,
and as God calls you to the
tasks He has appointed for you, don't be
afraid of your flaws.
Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take
advantage of them, and you, too,
can be the cause of beauty in His pathway.
Go out boldly, knowing that in our weakness
we find His strength.
Author Unknown

Five Lessons

1. During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a
pop quiz.  I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the
questions, until I read the last one:  'What is the first name of the
woman who cleans the school?'  Surely this was some kind of joke.  I
had seen the cleaning woman several times.  She was tall, dark-haired
and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper,
leaving the last question blank.

Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count
toward our quiz grade.  'Absolutely,' said the professor.  'In your
careers you will meet many people.  All are significant.  They deserve
your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say hello'.
I've never forgotten that lesson.  I also learned her name was

2. One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African-American woman was
standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing
rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.
Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.  A young white man
stopped to help her-generally unheard of in those conflict-filled
1960s.  The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put
her into a taxi cab. She seemed to be in a big hurry!  She wrote down
his address, thanked him and drove away.

Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door.  To his
surprise, a giant combination console color TV and stereo record
player were delivered to his home.  A special note was attached.  The
note read: Dear Mr. James: Thank you so much for assisting me on the
highway the other night.  The rain drenched not only my clothes but my
spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to
my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away.  God bless you
for helping me and unselfishly serving others.  Sincerely, Mrs. Nat
King Cole.

3. In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old
boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table.  A waitress put a
glass of water in front of him.  "How much is an ice cream sundae?"

"Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand
out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.

"How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired.  Some people
were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

"Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.  The little boy again counted
the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.  The waitress
brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The
boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the
waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed
hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were
two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

4. In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway.  Then
he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge
rock.  Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by
and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not
keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big
stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of
vegetables.  On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his
burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much
pushing and straining, he finally succeeded.  As the peasant picked up
his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the
boulder had been.  The purse contained many gold coins and a note from
the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the
boulder from the roadway.

The peasant learned what many others never understand. Every obstacle
presents an opportunity to improve one's condition.

5. Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital,
I got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from a rare
and serious disease.  Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a
blood transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously
survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to
combat the illness.  The doctor explained the situation to her little
brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to
his sister.  I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep
breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it  if it will save Liza."

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and
smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then
his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and
asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?" Being
young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going
to have to give her all his blood.


I learned a lesson today.   A life lesson.   It took the tears of a child.
I'M the teacher.  But today's lesson was profound.

That you know the child's name is not important.   He could have been any
student - in any classroom.   He is a child of color.   Which race doesn't
matter - African-American, Hispanic, Indian, Asian.

For weeks we had battled the racist acts directed at him by students in our
school.  As this week drew to a close, he and I sat down to discuss how it had
been going for him.

He tries so hard to be tough, to fight back.  He has a reputation as a
fighter.   But this date, the weeks, months, - yes, the lifetime - of racism
seemed too large a burden to bear.   His jaw quivered as he fought back the
pain - but to no avail.  Tears of release squeezed out the corners of his dark
eyes and slid feely down his cheeks.   He sobbed in my arms.   I wept with
him, feeling for once,the depth of his hurt.   Pain brought by a difference he
can't - he shouldn't want - to change.   His tears washed away the film that
had distorted my white perspective of the world.

It has been too easy for me to close my eyes to the pain racism causes in
children - in PEOPLE.  Yes, I'd SEEN the hurtful effects repeatedly - from a
safe distance.   But when MY pain in viewing racism became too uncomfortable,
I had the luxury of retreating.   Pretending it didn't exist - especially not
in our nice community.

My student does not have the luxury of retreat.   No release. Except the
tears. and the hope of a better tomorrow.

Tomorrow.   A place where tolerance, acceptance- even celebration - of
diversity exist.   A place of peace.

His dream of tomorrow is my task for today.

Those tears must remind me every day that I can't turn my back.  For me,it is
no longer an option.   I must fight this problem which is overwhelms this
child - any child.   I need to be so uncomfortable with the pain that I act
out against it - regardless of how unpopular it may seem.

As  Gandhi said, "If we are to reach real peace in the world, we shall have to
begin with children."

FOR ME, it began with the tears of a child.



Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down:  73 in a 55
zone... .  Fourth time in as many months.  How could a guy get caught so
often?  When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but
only partially.  Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard.

Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.  Bob?  Bob from
church?  Jack sunk farther into his trench coat.  This was worse than the
coming ticket.  A Christian cop catching a guy from his own
church.  A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day
at the office.  A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd
never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob.  Fancy meeting you like this."

"Hello, Jack."  No smile.

"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."

"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain.  Good.

"I've seen some long days at the office lately.  I'm afraid I bent the rules
a bit-just this once."  Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.  "Diane said
something about roast beef and potatoes tonight.  Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our

Ouch!  This was not going in the right direction.  Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"

"Seventy-one.  Would you sit back in your car, please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob.  I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely
nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

"Please, Jack, in the car."

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door.  Slamming it
shut, he stared at the dashboard.  He was in no rush to open the window.  The
minutes ticked by.  Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a
driver's license?

Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near
this cop again.  A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.

There was Bob, a folded paper in hand.  Jack rolled down the window a mere
two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks."  Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.  Bob
returned to his car without a word.  Jack watched his retreat in the mirror.
He unfolded the sheet of paper.  How much was this one going
to cost?

Wait a minute.  What was this?  Some kind of joke?  Certainly not a ticket.

Jack began to read:

"Dear Jack, once upon a time I had a daughter.  She was six when killed by a
car.  You guessed it -- a speeding driver.  A fine and three months in jail,
and the man was free.  Free to hug his daughters.  All three of them.

I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven before I can ever
hug her again.  A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand
times I thought I had.  Maybe I did, but I need to do it again.  Even now.

Pray for me.  And be careful.  My son is all I have left.


Jack twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the
road. Jack watched until it disappeared.  A full 15 minutes later, he too,
pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a
surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

 Life is precious.  Handle with care.