Drops of Succour

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not had a drop of rain in almost a month. The crops were dying and the cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams had long dried up.

Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this had involved taking a truck to the local water plant, filling it up and driving it back to our farm. But severe rationing had cut off supply. If we didn't get some rain soon, we'd lose our crops and everything else.

It was on this day that I witnessed a miracle and learned the true lesson of sharing.

I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for the guys when I saw my six-year-old, Billy, walking towards the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a kid. I could only see his back, but he was intent on something, and trying to be as careful as possible.

Minutes after disappearing into the woods, he came running out, towards the house. I went back to making the sandwiches, thinking that whatever he had been doing was done. Several minutes later, however, he was walking purposefully towards the woods again. This went on for about an hour - walk slowly to the woods, run back to the house, walk again ...

Finally, my curiosity get the better of me. I crept out of the house and tailed him, taking care not to be seen as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his mummy checking on him.

I sneaked up close and saw that Billy had cupped his hands in front of him, so as not to spill some water he held in them. There were perhaps two or three tablespoons of water in those chubby hands. Branches and thorns slapped his little face, but he did not try to avoid them. He had other things on his mind.

As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing sight. Several large deer loomed in front of him ... and Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamer at him to get a way. A huge buck with elaborate antlers looked dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him; he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And then I saw a tiny fawn on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hands.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up. I ducked behind a tree, then followed him back to the house, to a spigot which we had used to shut off the water supply. Billy opened it all the way up and a drop trickled out. He knelt there, waiting for the drops to fill up his "cup" as the sun beat down on his back. Then I remembered the trouble he had gotten into for playing with those 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 was almost 20 minutes before he stood up to make the trek back into the woods, once again. As he turned, I was there in front of him. Billy's eyes 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 the fawn. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods and watched as the most beautiful heart I'd ever known worked hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face his 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 would probably say that this was all just a coincidence. That miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain some time. I can't argue with that; I won't try to. All I can say is the rain that came that day saved our farm, just like the actions of one little boy saved another creature's life.

Sent to Starmag by Cindy Han