There was this couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery, especially teacups.

One day in a beautiful fine shop, they saw this beautiful teacup.

The man said, “May I see that? I never have seen one quite so beautiful.” And the lady handed it to him.

As she handed it to him, suddenly the teacup spoke:

“You don’t understand,” it said, “I haven’t always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, ‘Let me alone.’

But he only smiled, ‘Not yet.’ “Then I was placed on a spinning wheel,” the teacup said, “and suddenly I was spun around and around and around and around. ‘Stop it! I’m getting dizzy’ I screamed.

But the master only nodded and said, ‘Not yet.’ “Then he put me in the oven. I’d never felt such heat! I wondered why he wanted to burn me. I yelled! I knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head, ‘Not yet.’

“Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf and I began to cool.

There, that’s better,’ I said.

Then he brushed me and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ I cried.

He only nodded, ‘Not yet.’

“Then suddenly he put me back into the oven not like the first one. This one was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head, saying, ‘Not yet.’

“Then I knew there wasn’t any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf.

One hour later, he handed me a mirror and said, ‘Look at yourself,’ and I did, and I said, ‘That’s not me, that couldn’t be me, it’s beautiful. ‘I’m beautiful!”

‘I want you to remember then,’ he said, ‘I know it hurt to be rolled and patted, but if I just left you, you’d have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled.

I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn’t put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad and when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn’t done that, you never would have hardened.

You would not have had any color in your life, and if I hadn’t put you back in that second oven, you wouldn’t survive for very long because the hardness would not have held.

Now you are a finished product.