I don't do this often, and don't plan to make this a habit. I wrote this short tale a few weeks back, and my wife, Kelly, thought that I should share it, so enjoy.
A young man, following in his father's’ footsteps, crafted a toy doll. He had studied hard under his father for many years, trying to perfect the craft. The son worked harder crafting this doll than any other, paying special attention to every last detail, as this doll was to be a special gift for his father. He wanted to show his father that he had indeed mastered the craft he had thought him and is now worthy of joining him as a partner in his little toyshop. After many long nights and much painstaking work, the doll was finally complete.
The young man carefully boxed up the doll and went on his way to present the doll to his father. He went outside and began walking the down the busy, old-world, city blocks. It had rained the night before, and muddy water had pooled in sections of the cobblestoned roads. He was careful not to let the buggies splash him as they passed by, even shielding the boxed doll from one rather large wave.
After a seemingly treturous journey down several blocks and around many turns, he could finally see his father’s home at the end of the road he was now on. He began to relax a bit when two boys ran into him, causing him to drop the boxed doll right into a rather substantial puddle. The young man was in shock, not knowing whether to go after the boys or rescue the doll. He decided to pick up the box which was little more than sturdy paper, and dissolved quickly in the water.
As he pulled his hands out of the mud puddle, the doll, which he had worked so hard on, was soaked through, with mud smeared all over one half of it and the porcelain head was cracked. The son stood there, in the puddle, mourning over the brokenness of his creation. Several minutes later, the young man heard his name being called out. The son looked up; it was his father beckoning him to come to his house.
As the young man approached his father’s door, the father asked what that dirty, broken thing was which he was holding. The young man told him that it was supposed to be a gift for him. The father, looking at the doll, told him, that it was indeed good craftsmanship, and it was a shame that he couldn’t keep it in his toyshop, being broken and sullied as it was. The man’s father placed the doll outside with the rest of the refuse.
The young man went out to retrieve the broken, dirty doll, and brought it back home with him. He carefully undid each stitch on the fabric, so as to open the doll up. He took out the sopping wet stuffing, and gently washed the outer fabric and hair. Once dry, he placed new stuffing in, then skillfully stitched the doll back up. He gently cleaned the porcelain head and then glued it back together, using a bonding agent his father had taught him to make, which when applied correctly, fills all the gaps seamlessly. Finally, the young man expertly repainted the smile, eyes, rosy cheeks, and other areas of the doll’s face where the cracks had been.
The doll now looked better than it did when it was first completed. The young man brought the doll back out, confident that he would make it there without incident, as this time it hadn’t rained in days, and the puddles had all dried. He did make it to his father’s house, where he presented his father with the doll a second time. The father, having not recognized the doll, asked his son where he found such an amazing work of art, worried that it’s creator might put him out of business. The son told him that not only did he craft this doll, but that this was the doll that the son had made for him; the very same doll which the father had discarded from his toyshop because it was broken and dirty.
The father was so impressed with his son’s abilities that he decided to place his son in charge of his toy shop. Any time a child came in with a broken toy, the father would joyfully proclaim, “behold my son, who makes all things new!”