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 that actions of one
little boy saved another.