Black as night, it was. Blacker than a crow’s feather. Blacker….well, you get the picture.
I stared at it for hours…okay, maybe minutes, but it felt like hours. I pushed my hat to the back of my head, rubbed my brow (which sweated uncontrollably in this infernal Texas heat), and wished I had the wisdom of Solomon.
There before my booted feet flowed a black oozing liquid from what had once been the bottom of a pond. If I tilted my head just so, it had a green sheen to it, or maybe it was purple. Hmm. Maybe it simply had a rainbow affect depending on how the light shone on it.
You’re thinking, ‘black gold’. Oil. This was Texas after all. But you’re not here to smell the stench coming from the ground. You don’t see the thousands of grasshoppers lying dead, or bees…yes, I think they were honeybees. Someone lost a lot of honeybees.
I squatted down, wrinkling my nose in an effort to dim the smell and wondering what exactly this ‘bubbling’ was. Oil would be nice financially, but no. I don’t want my land torn up by riggings and pipes and the like. This piece of land was good virgin land, unmarred by what man called ‘progress’. I’d like to keep it that way.
Well, I thought as I stood, nothing to do but get a shovel and see what exactly was going on here. The pond had been a spot for all sorts of wildlife to come drink, until the neighbor decided to build his tank (aka pond, aka dugout) right in the runoff bed that filled my pond. And he finished it the first year of this drought. Now we’re into the second year. No rain since May, temperatures over 100 F almost every day, hot winds blowing daily, and we’re coming on the middle of August.
I looked to the sky. “Lord, we need rain.” I took a deep breath and wondered what God had in store, because it had been my experience that He made good out of bad.
Walking to the UTV to grab my shovel, I prayed, “You know I love this land. You know, God, that You gave it to me, made it possible for me to have my little paradise here on earth. But if this drought continues, I’ll have to sell all the cattle…and I’m not sure I’d be able to rebuild.”
Shovel in hand, I looked up the trail to the pasture to be sure the gate was closed, cattle on the other side. Not knowing what was happening with the pond, I didn’t want the calves coming down and getting sick. Doubt they’d come anyway, with the smell being so bad, but better to be safe than sorry.
With a sigh, I turned to the pond, scanning the mud wallows made by wild hogs, taking in the deer tracks, raccoon tracks, and other wildlife. When I got to the black, oozing mud, I thrust my shovel into it. Bent the handle back and heard the sucking noise of the mud, then lifted and flung it aside.
More bubbles. Hmmm.
I continued to thrust, bend, and throw, digging a little hole in the area of the bubbles. By now, I was able to ignore the smell. Especially when I noticed that the liquid bubbling began to change. Not quite so thick.
Thrust, fling. Thrust, fling, and soon a hole about three feet wide and three feet deep formed with shale at the bottom. What bubbled up no longer looked black. In fact, it was clear.
Leaning on my shovel, I looked down, sniffed, but all I could smell was the rotting carcasses of dead insects. I decided to clear a little more of the mud, and while sweat poured off of every part of my body, I got excited. Could it be?
After an hour of digging in the hot sun, I decided to take a break and headed to the UTV for some shade and water. “Lord,” I thought, “Would You really be giving me what I think this is?” I was almost too afraid to hope.
Finishing my water bottle, crushing it, and tossing it into the garbage can in the back of the UTV, I picked up my shovel and returned to the pond.
But I stopped in my tracks.
My eyes scanned the area I had been digging. It shimmered in the sunlight. Almost mirage-like in nature. I could see the shale, but it wobbled in the light, especially a little ways from where bubbles continued to come up.
This was too good to be true.
I ran down the side of the pond and slopped through the black, stinky mud to where I’d been digging, my hands fairly shaking with excitement.
What I was seeing was so much better than black gold. This was life-giving. This was life-changing. This was water!
I laughed and jigged around and laughed and cried out, “Praise God! You are so absolutely awesome! Thank you! Thank you!”
Then I dropped to my knees in the water, on the shale, and cupped the water, drawing it to my nose to smell. It smelled wonderful, clean, fresh. Not even a hint of sulfur, as most of the wells in the area had. Dare I taste it?
“Lord, this looks good. It smells good. Surely, it will be safe to drink? Dare I?” I took a deep breath, felt the peace of the presence of God, and bent down to drink.
Oh, the taste! Oh how wonderful! So pure. So perfect! Never had I tasted water so good!
I drank my fill, then got up and lifted my hands up to the Lord in praise!
Drought be hanged. I had a spring…a real spring on my property, in my pond. Water for my cattle. Water! Who would have thought.
To God be all glory, honor, and praise!
I wish this story was true. What a find that would be! However, I have found living water, and praise God because by drinking that living water, I have eternal life.
“Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water…whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” John 4:10,14
