This Is the Teapot...

Many, many years ago, my grandmother had a china teapot. It was beautiful, delicate and perfect--almost. A friend had brought it back for her from a pilgrimage, and such gifts are thought to be especially blessed. Most people of her generation would value it because it was a gift from a friend, bought from a holy city. My grandmother loved the beauty and delicacy of it--it's ornate floral pattern and gold trim. Every day, a few times a day, she would gingerly prepare tea and place the teapot on top of her samovar. She loved it so much, she did not notice the long thin crack in the back of the teapot, unless someone else came into the kitchen to help her prepare tea or chat. Then she would make sure it was placed on the samovar just so to hide its little imperfection. And so, for years, the teapot did its teapot duties despite the obvious crack that we carefully ignored; and for years, we teased my grandmother for not using one of her other teapots that didn't need such careful handling and arranging. But she didn't change her ways until a careless cousin accidentally broke it.

I am that little teapot.