We have an artisan well that flows into a stream bed that runs along our south property line and into the pond. It is one of my most favorite things about the land that we are blessed to call home. More so, because after we dug the stream bed we placed every rock by hand together as a family. Our little stream ran gently over all those rocks… day and night… for years and years.
I don’t remember the date that I walked outside and found the stream bed dry, but I remember feeling that somehow our family would never quite be the same. It was in those last few months of our son’s battle with cancer that the flow of the well diminished and then stopped completely. The stream had come to symbolize that we could do amazing things if we worked together as a family and finding it dry added to my already broken heart. For the first few years after his funeral, the well remained barren.
But early this year, I heard the familiar sound of water and ran to find the smallest trickle coming from the well head. Winter turned to spring and with the emerging green the water increased until it was once again as it had always been.
Along with symbolizing the strength of our family, this little stream has come to serve as a constant gentle reminder for me that whatever pains or illness or troubles beset me, the promise is that God will lead me beside the still waters and restore my soul.