The well that never runs dry

Myyardhasvaricose veins and doesn’t seem to care. I guess the upside is that the mower (that’s me) gets a break, but seeing as yard work is my main form of exercise that’s not a good thing. The cracks are widening and spreading, and any day now I wonder if I’ll come home and find my dogs missing. The rains will come when they come, but for now we truly “weather” the lack of moisture with prayer and hopeful glances to the summer sky.

The cracks in our lives are just as painful to behold. We all have those dry spells—biologically, emotionally, financially. The difference, though, is that the well never runs dry for us. Elisha’s miracle in II Kings testifies to this: when the woman keeps bringing empty vessels, the much-needed oil filled them all. The Lord provided.

Recently, I asked a friend who owns a gardening/landscaping operation if business was slow during this painfully dry season. Just the opposite, he said. He’s never been busier. Not having a lush green yard doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy a beautiful flower bed or hanging plant. Cross applying that same mentality to a difficult moment—loss of a job or of a loved one—might help us survive the droughts that come with grief. Not only survive it but even grow in the midst of it.

My mother, in her own West Texas reflections, composed this poem years after my grandmother's passing, referencing both the droughts of the 1930s and 1950s. When cracks appear in the ground or in our hearts—from an absence of water or love or a presence of wildfires or hate—it is worth remembering that the Creator can replenish our vessels, too. My mother planted flowers; I always wondered why. It seemed such work Too difficult to try. The land was so hard— Earth, baked dry— Brown baked earth Under a cloudless sky. We carried water for them— She and I. Now, no one carries water; No flowers can be found. Just a lonely little cedar bush With roots deep in the ground. The house is gone, and so is she, And I wish that I could say “I understand now why you wanted to see something beautiful each day.”

Snyder, Texas, native Sue Jane Sullivan is a retired schoolteacher whose thought-provoking commentary appears occasionally in several West texas newspapers, including The Texas Spur and The Caprock Courier.