It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost
a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and
streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would
bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband and his
brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the
fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water
rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut
everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon...we would lose everything.
It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the
only miracle I have seen with my own eyes. I was in the kitchen making lunch for
my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking
toward the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth
but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back.
He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as still as
possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out
again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that
whatever task he had been doing was completed.
Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride
toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the
woods, run back to the house. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I crept
out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be
seen...as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his Mommy
checking up on him).
He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not
to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were held in
his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns
slapped his little face but he did not try to void them. He had a much higher
purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site.
Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I
almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was
dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him...he didn't even move as
Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously
suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort
to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand.
When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid
behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut
off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to
creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip slowly fill up his makeshift "cup",
as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to me. The trouble he
had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had
received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn't ask me
to help him.
It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up
and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just
filled with tears. "I'm not wasting", was all he said. As he began his walk, I
joined him...with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the
fawn. I stayed away. It was his job.
I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever
known working so hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my
face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and
more drops...and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was
weeping with pride.
Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles
don't really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with
that...I'm not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day
saved our farm...just like that actions of one little boy saved another.
This is not one of those crazy chain letters...if you don't forward it to
anyone, nothing bad will happen to you. If you choose to forward it, you won't
receive any riches in the mail. I don't know if anyone will read this...but I
had to send it out. To honour the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken
from me much too soon.... But not before showing me the true face of God, in a
little sunburned body.
Author unknown. If anyone has a proprietary interest in this story please
authenticate and I will be happy to credit, or remove, as the circumstances
dictate.
Send by Shirley Powley SABP78@aol.com
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