A man was lost in the desert and dying of thirst. He stumbled on until he came to an abandoned house. Outside the deserted shack was a pump. He stumbled forward and began pumping furiously, but no water came from the well. Then he noticed a small jug with a cork at the top and a note written on the side:
“You have to prime the pump with water. P.S. And fill the jug again before you leave.”
He pulled out a cork and saw that the jug was full of water.
“Should I pour the water down the pump? What if it doesn’t work? All the water will be gone. If I drink the water from the jug, I’m sure I will not die of thirst. But to follow the flimsy instruction and pour it down the rusty pump?” the man thought.
He finally made up his mind. He proceeded to pour the whole jug of water down the rusty old pump and furiously pumped up and down.
And … the water gushed out!
He had all the water he needed to drink. He filled the jug again, corked it and added his own words beneath the instructions on the jug: “Believe me, it really works.”
Sometimes we have to give it all away before we can get anything back.
The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.
– Pablo Picasso
– Pablo Picasso
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MIRACLE AT THE FRONT DOOR
Her husband was away, the furnace was broken, and the front door was open.
Her husband was away, the furnace was broken, and the front door was open.
Did someone break in?
Here in the Midwest, we’re used to frigid winters, but that morning seemed colder than usual.
Maybe it was because my husband wasn’t sleeping next to me. He had gone out of town on a long trip. It was just me looking after our three daughters. We lived out in the country—no neighbors within shouting distance, and I felt vulnerable. At night I made sure to lock the doors and I prayed God would watch over us.
I’d woken up shivering, with a pounding headache. It was really cold, even for our 170-year-old house. Did our furnace break down? I went downstairs to check. That’s when I saw that the front door was wide open! I shut it and cranked up the thermostat. I’m positive I locked that door last night. Did someone break in? I dashed upstairs. The girls were safe in their beds. I looked around. Nothing was missing.
My teeth chattering, I waited for the furnace to kick in. It didn’t. The draft from the door must have blown the pilot light out. I didn’t know how to relight it. My husband usually took care of things like that. Why did he have to be gone for so long? I called the girls down to breakfast, turning on the oven and shoving the kitchen table near it for warmth.
Once I got the kids off to school and I got to work, I phoned a furnace repairman. “I’ll take a look as soon as I can and call you,” he said.
I got a call back a few hours later. “Your furnace has a leak,” the repairman said, in a tone that seemed to imply more than just a minor problem.
“How soon can you fix it?” I asked, dreading another freezing night.
“Ma’am, you don’t understand,” he said. “Your furnace is leaking carbon monoxide. That’s the type of thing you see on the news, where an entire family dies in their sleep. I’ll install a new furnace tomorrow. Until then, you’ll need to stay somewhere else.”
Immediately I thought of the front door. If it hadn’t somehow gotten open to let the fresh air in…
That breath of fresh air saved our lives—and it made an impression on my husband too. When he got home, he promised never to leave us for so long again.
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