Cincy'sMom
07-13-2002, 07:28 AM
This was an email I got recently. Don't know if is true or not, maybe just email spam, but a good story anyway:
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 seven 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 een...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
avoid 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
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 seven 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 een...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
avoid 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