I was born with a disability… I can't walk.
Sometimes, I wonder why I have to suffer so much.
Why wasn't I born like everybody else?
Why do people have to pity me?
I hate their pitying eyes. Every time they look at me like that, it feels like they're confirming what I already believe—that I am useless. That I can't do anything. And in reality, maybe they're right.
Other kids my age play soccer, basketball, and baseball—my favorite sport. But me? I can only watch from the sidelines.
A broken toy.
That's what I feel like.
But life goes on. So I go to school, do my homework, and pretend that everything is fine.
One afternoon, I was outside my house, sitting in my wheelchair, staring at the sky, lost in my usual thoughts, when I saw a man walking down the street. He was carrying two large pots, one in each hand. But I noticed something strange—one of the pots had a long, deep crack running down its side.
He probably didn't even realize it was broken.
I rolled my wheelchair closer to him. "Um… Mister, one of your pots is cracked," I said.
The man stopped and looked at me. But unlike everyone else, he didn't give me that pitiful look. Instead, he smiled.
"Ah," he said, glancing at the cracked pot. "Yes, it is."
He crouched down to my level, placing the pot gently on the ground.
"But you know… this pot is still useful."
I frowned. "But it's broken."
The man chuckled. "Come with me."
Curious, I followed him as he walked a little further down the road. Then, he pointed to a path lined with beautiful, colorful flowers.
"See those flowers?" he asked.
I nodded.
"This path wasn't always like this. Every day, I walk this road, carrying these two pots to fetch water from the river. The cracked pot leaks along the way, and for a long time, I thought it was useless. But then, I noticed something…" He gestured at the flowers again. "The water that dripped from the cracked pot nourished these flowers, helping them grow. What seemed like a flaw… turned out to be a blessing."
I stared at the flowers, his words slowly sinking in.
"You see," he continued, looking at me, "just because something is broken doesn't mean it's worthless. Even with its crack, this pot has a purpose. Just like you."
I blinked. "Me?"
He nodded. "You may not be able to do things the way others do, but that doesn't mean you have no value. There are things only you can do, ways only you can shine. The world needs you, just as much as it needs the flowers, the water, and even this cracked pot."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Something inside me shifted.
For years, I had only seen my disability as something that made me lesser. Something that made me broken. But what if I was looking at it all wrong?
What if I wasn't worthless?
What if I had a purpose, too?
I looked up at the man, wanting to ask more questions, but… he was gone.
I glanced around, confused. "Mister?"
But there was no trace of him anywhere. It was as if he had never been there at all.
Yet, the flowers still swayed gently in the wind.
And for the first time in my life… I didn't feel like a broken toy.
Some people might call it a coincidence.
But I knew better.
It was a miracle.
A miracle from God.