Class of 1992

I once heard a story about a boy who, like the other children in the village, was told to go to the well and carry water back to the village each morning. It was a long journey, and the water was heavy, but he did as he was told. The problem was, his jar was cracked. No matter how hard he tried, he could not make his jar look like the others’. What made things worse was the water leaked as he walked to the village. Still, he went to the well each morning and returned to the village with whatever water remained by the time he arrived. The other children made fun of him and his cracked jar, as they proudly carried their shiny jars to the village. In time, though, small flowers began to grow along the path, flowers that grew only because the jar was cracked and water leaked.

Let those who have ears to hear, let them hear.