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"We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today." ~Stacia Tauscher
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I am happy to begin our stories twice a week again! Our next few stories are special miracle stories for and from parents! I even have a new "Noah story" to share next time about the amazing power of prayer. God does still work miracles - even tiny ones we might think are too insignificant for Him. Today's story is one of the most powerful I have ever read. It moved me deeply and I would like to dedicate it to my sweet friend and sister of the heart, Sandi and her angel in heaven, Luke. May God pull you close on the days when you need Him most.
The Rain by anonymous author
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 had 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 youth, but with serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with 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 ta sk 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: walking carefully to the woods, running 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.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 snuck up close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his l ittle 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 sight.
Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to him. 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, lying 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 where we had shut off the water. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip, drip slowly fill his makeshift "cup", as the sun beat down on his little back. And it became 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 jo ined 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 at the edge of the woods, watching the most beautiful heart I had ever known working so hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, other drops, and more drops, and more, suddenly joined them. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, Himself was weeping with pride.
Some will probably say this was all a huge coincidence. Those miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain some time. 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 life. I don't know if anyone will read this, but I had to send it out. T o 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.
Please send your letter and comments on this story to the Letter Box, in care of 2theheart.
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The Letter Box:
What a poignant 2TheHeart issue on the eve of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. I think all Americans are reflecting on the events of five years ago and how our nation has changed. Thanks for publishing Mr. Farman's story and for the link to Ms. Leone's story, as well as the heartfelt poems and other tributes. After 9/11 it became more clear to me that none if us have the promise of tomorrow. Life is fragile, but the human spirit is strong, very strong and amazingly resilient. I'm SOOOOO glad you're back online with 2TheHeart!
Re: September 11th issue: Thank you Sooz for sharing this. I found a prayer on Beliefnet.Com that encapsulates what we are all desire to see come from this tragedy and all the strife from day to day.
September 11th Prayer: Lord, help us to use this tragedy to see beyond our divisions of religion, race, and nationality and to embrace our common humanity. May we learn to see that of you in our neighbors, and even in our enemies. May love overcome hate, peace overcome violence, and faith overcome despair. Amen
Take care and God Bless
Angel Sue Hughes
Bahrain, Middle East
Dear Sue thank you so much for making a part of this beautiful tribute to all those who died on that day and all those who survived. The story that Mr. Farman wrote particularly touched my heart and soul. There has been so much hate spewed around for this act of terrorism. It is time for us to blame the individual not the "people" for these acts of barbarism. I just can't understand how you can blame a whole race of people for those who perpetrated this evil act.
I am so glad that Mr. Farman is counted as one of the survivors of this terrible act of terror. I hope that he knows that he has great worth to many. I wish him all that is best in life for I know that he carries memories that would torment his very soul. I pray that God gives him the strength to go on in life and do what he has to do to become that miracle of life that he was meant to be when he survived this awful day.
As for the Jewis h man who reached out to him, and helped him through this ordeal well, I say, we should all reach out for those next to us, not caring whose hand we are taking because we are after all is said and done, God's children.
Thanks for sharing this story and God Bless us EVERYONE!
Love Francine Pucillo
Dear 2TheHeart, What a profound inpact your September 11th issue had on me. Even though it has been 5 years, our country has been so deeply affected by this day that that it seems like it was only yesterday. I have been so proud to see so much good come out of so much ugliness. We Americans are truly blessed to have each other and to be prayed for and cared about by other countries. It is important to focus on the g ood and you have always done just that. Thank you,
Making a difference, one story at a time!