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 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,
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 the
actions of one
little
boy
saved
another.
I don't
know if
anyone
will
read
this ...
but
I had to
send it
out.
To honor
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
The Farmer and The Lord
Jim Reeves
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