My parents are really into gardening. When I was a child we had a large garden and two allotments.
For those of you who aren’t from the UK, an allotment is a piece of land that you hire (normally) from the local council in order to have more land to grow things on.
The three children were expected to help out, my brother, my sister and I.
One of the jobs that I had mixed feelings about was the watering. Some days the watering was fun, some days it was pure drudgery.
At the allotments that taps was not directly next to our plots. At one of them it was what seemed like a mile away, but I think it was only a few plots away. This one, I remember, was a screw tap which was really, really difficult to open and close.
At the other allotment the tap was only one plot away. This tap was different. In order to stop water wastage the council had fitted a plunger tap, the type that you press down when you want water and soon after you lift your hand off the water stops. You sometimes see this type in public toilets which is always a challenge because the thing you are trying to wash is the thing that is making the water run. The theory on water wastage hadn’t allowed for human ingenuity though. Hidden behind the tap was a piece of wood which had a slot in it; this slot was just the right size to fit over the top and bottom of the tap once the plunger had been depressed. You could fill a watering can without having to spend the whole time pressing the plunger, you could even wander off and forget about the watering can altogether.
My remembrance of watering at the allotments was that it took hours and hours, but I was a young boy who was easily bored. It probably didn’t take long at all.
Now I’m an adult and have my own watering to do I feel radically different about it. Watering the plants is quite therapeutic. I know that these plants rely on me to bring them life giving water. They need me. They aren’t massively demanding, but they still have a need. A need which I can fulfill.
Although I have fulfilled their need for today I will still need to water tomorrow though.
A woman, a Samaritan, came to draw water. Jesus said, “Would you give me a drink of water?” (His disciples had gone to the village to buy food for lunch.)
The Samaritan woman, taken aback, asked, “How come you, a Jew, are asking me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” (Jews in those days wouldn’t be caught dead talking to Samaritans.)
Jesus answered, “If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water.”
The woman said, “Sir, you don’t even have a bucket to draw with, and this well is deep. So how are you going to get this ‘living water’? Are you a better man than our ancestor Jacob, who dug this well and drank from it, he and his sons and livestock, and passed it down to us?”
Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks this water will get thirsty again and again. Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life.”
