I recently came across the wonderful story of an old woman who was living by herself many many years ago. Every morning, she went to the river to get fresh water. She took a long pole, hung an old bucket from the left side and another bucket from the right side. Always the same buckets on the same sides of the pole.
The walk down the dirt path from her house wasn’t very long. At the river, she would take the pole with the buckets off her shoulders and carefully dip each bucket in the river, filling it with cold, fresh water. Then, just as carefully, she would place each bucket back on the pole, lift the pole up onto her shoulders, and slowly make her way back.
As she walked home, the right-hand bucket held the water perfectly, whereas the left-hand bucket, had a small crack in the bottom leaking out a persistent drip. By the time the woman reached home, the bucket would be half empty, which happened day after day, week after week, year after year.
Nothing changed… until one day, just as they arrived at the river, the left-hand bucket sighed. This surprised the woman. She had never heard a bucket sigh before.
Then the bucket spoke. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”