Drinking Deep from Living Water

Dust swirled around the long, white station wagon, covering the children running along side.  A car from America a spectacle in this small Mexican village.  Three children inside, eyes and minds, fixated on the commotion.

 

I was the smallest, barely seven years of experience behind me.  Struggling to fit new pieces into my world’s puzzle.  World of brick, ranch house sitting atop manicured lawn.  Odd shapes mismatched with smooth, clean edges.

 

Car window revealing dirt roads lined with shops constructed with metal sheeting.  Boys kicking wadded paper turned into soccer balls.  Clothes torn, shoes long ago worn through.  Girls playing dolls.  Smiling, holding rolled newspapers covered with brightly colored cloth.

 

Laughter, unmistakable joy.  Contentment running deep in hands full, not reaching for more. World possessing bigger, newer unknown.  Sights unseen making eyes bright with small gifts, seeing beauty in dust and paper.

 

The trip, meticulously planned by my father and mother, placed together for our hearts to taste hunger.  See happiness laid bare.  Hold work weathered hands.  Make streams in dusty river beds.  Jesus loves red, yellow, black, and white.  They are precious in His sight.

 

Thirst, unbearable thirst, tears running down my face.  Water bottles empty, parents searching for liquid.  Big city miles ahead, only shacks offering local fare.  My father explaining dangers growing in water, knowledge grown out of years as water engineer.  He drove on, refusing disease for his little girl.

 

More cries of thirst from the back seat.  My sister joining in, begging to stop.  Desperately my father stopping by rusting store, fearing the worst.  Jumping from the car, hearing my father call behind us, “Agua, tell them agua.”

 

Thirst calls for desperate measures.    

 

Sun scorched woman standing in darkness, surprised by two small white girls.  Hearing “agua”, smiling, nodding, pointing.  Following behind, stacks of old furniture, magazines, pots rising on both sides, a treasure hunt for water.

 

Thirst calls for desperate measures.    

 

Dirt crusted sink standing in far corner.  Plastic cup resting near rusting spout, brown grime covering sides.  My mouth filled with cotton threads yearned for water.  Beautiful, lined woman releasing water into cup.  Flowing water filling dirty vessel.

 

Thirst calls for desperate measures.    

 

Taking the cup from dust covered hands, I drank deeply.  Cool water soothing parched lips, soaking cotton threads.  Water satisfying deep thirst.  My sister drinking, smiling with relief.  Small woman standing nearby watching, waiting.  She offered her best, we received without fear.  Too young, too desperate.  Water washing away tears, thirst.

 

Thirst calls for desperate measures.

 

Clean, pure water runs freely in my house today.  Glasses clean, sink scoured.  But the thirst remains.

 

Earthly possessions seeking to quench my soul’s longings.  Phone offering conversations, companionship.  Hoping husband and children exclaim my worth.  Wells running dry, spilling water into never full ravines.

I’m the woman coming to the well, broken and empty.  My Lord waits, resting by the rounded edges.  He knew I would come.  He saw me before my feet plodded on dusty ground.  He brought the thirst.

 

He knew thirst calls for desperate measures.

 

Without the thirst I wouldn’t come.  Unfulfilling endeavors bring me to His well.  He gently offers me Living Water, Himself.  I came for what I need today, He gives me what will satisfy forever.

 

Jesus knows about broken cisterns, it is the reason He came.  He was broken, I am whole.  He was scorned, I am loved.  He was beaten, I am embraced.  He died, I am reconciled.  He was raised, I am living.

 

He is Living Water flowing in me, through me, never ceasing.

I drink deeply, He fills my desert of longing.    Dusty, dirty hands reaching for His pure life giving water.

 

Photography copyright © by Jane Carole Stein

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One thought on “Drinking Deep from Living Water

  1. WOW! How I need to let Jesus be my water! I can remember the sink too! God gave us a miracle of pure water that day. He can make beauty come out of something old and rusted! Thanks for your unbelievable stories and words for my life!

    Love,

    Anne

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