San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-08-07
Listen. World!
Living Water
By Elsie Robinson

q Slluh lOOl III u iVuSh tup Va 'NN"~,
screened by n tanSle OF wild ferns ana
lilies. \ homely bit of water, where,
little, Quarrelsome sparrows battle ana
squabblc, and ragged leaves float in a
glimmer of the sun. You'd hardly
think little pool like that could
count for much in Il great city's litc'
And yet
When | come home, limp and
weary, these hot days, l feel the wei
come of that pool clear down the
street. There is Il tightening and a
freshening Of the air. 1t isn't like the
perfume of the roses nor the heavy
fragrance of the jasmine vine. They
sweetcn-yet while sweetening they
weigh the air. Nor is it like the NOV
ing of the wind nor like the pungent
breath of the tall trees. The wind and
trees can stir and clean the air, but
this is something different.
feel that life moves out TO meet
me down the street. | feel its quick
ching go through my Shutdown
through my body to my weary heart.
/ hurry till / stand beside my pool.
It's only water-but i think IL IS
alive. 1t moves about the fern roots
sccretly-itS essence goes up into the
stale air, and both the roots and air
become renewed. | stand there empty
yet presently l feel the water pene-
trate my void and freshCn all my
willing human roots. The sunshine
presses about in binding wall, and
work is waiting. But for short
space | draw new life, forgetting.
There are lives like that. Small,
common lives quite hidden in the
worlds onward rush which ye gives
out new life to all who touch their
rim. They very seldom are wise lives,
or rich or powerful or great or grand.
But they have a quality within them
selves which neither fame nor riches
can give-a freshening, quickening in
fluence on other souls.
| remember an old man who was
like my pool. l met him on the Mo.
jave desert. He was wrinkled and
brown, with struggling wiSp OF
beard. He looked like some small
creature who has spent its life there in
the sand. As, indeed. he had. He
had one tiny, aged burro, n pot or two,
a pan and a pick, a sack of beans,
water bag and that was all. We
campcd together for an hour in the
scant shade of a dry creek bed. l
forgot what we talked about. Idle
patter of the trail. The chances Of
for snake bite. A new way TO cook
beans. Nothing of moment-yet l
came away feeling that | had been
filled with some Quickening elixir. The
whimsical smile of his toothless mouth,
the childish clarity of his old blue
eyes, something vital and penetrating
about the whole man, something hon
est and clcan-LIVING WATER. /
left him and went gaily across the
desert. / was filled with new zest.
There was a gentle, faded woman in
a Vermont town who also had this
quality. She lived in a gray house on
the edge of the town, where the road
took a dip toward the meadow and the
woods. Quiet as her life was, it seem.
ed TO hold something of the bright
freedom of that meadOw-sOme of the
Swallowed mystery of the wood. She
had planted clumps of tall blue lark
spur and scarlet sage beneath the ap.
pie trees, where she could watch them
as she sat at her loom. All day she
sat at the loom weaving clean smell
ing, gray linen. And you seDSed her
presence as you neared her shabby
house, just as | now sense the pres
Gnce of my little pool: There was a
liyeliness in her, a quiet. refreshing
force that revived all who came in
contact with her. Yet l can never
remember that she preached or posed
or did anything that drew attention to
Int - Il
that rested you. 1t was some power,
of which she was but a receptacle
some LIVING WATER OF THE
SPIRIT.
Maybe that sort of thing only hap
pens in those spirits that are wide
open to hold beauty and strength
people who don't force themselves on
you, or muddy life with too much
fussing over self. They are like very
young children, who make life sud-
denly seem simpler and cleaner, be.
cause they take it hat way.
And there was another one. ]
never met Him although | have often
wished l had. He was poor, too. and
walked good deal on the outskirts
of towns, in lonely places with odd
people. He loved water too and knew
its cleansing mystery. He often ad-
vised sick people to go to it. 1t must
have helped His own spirit during
struggles. Once, in talking to n tired,
bitter woman. He spoke of that pow
or which had become part of Him
"Whosocvcr drinkcth of the water
that shall give him shall never thirst,
but the water that | shall give him
shall be in him a well of water spring.
ing up into everlasting life"
I'm sure my old man on the MOjave
would have understood Him, and the
gentle woman at her loom. Would
you?
Copyright. 1925. King Feature Syn, Inc.