The day it arrived, you knew your family's water supply would be secured.

The day it arrived, you knew your family's water supply would be secured.

The day it arrived, a crowd gathered in the yard. A rumbling sound filled the air as the drill rod inch by inch descended, bringing up increasingly damp soil. You stood watching, your palms sweating, your heart pounding. You didn't know how deep it would go, whether it would even reach water, you just waited.

Then the water came. It gushed from the pipe, clear and icy cold, splashing you all over. You didn't flinch, but leaned forward, squatted down, scooped up some water, and drank a mouthful. At that moment, you knew your family's water supply would be secured. Not just a sense of certainty, but a weight that had been lifted from your heart.

From then on, everything at home was different. No more calculating about washing vegetables, no more saving on laundry, and the children could bathe for as long as they wanted. The vegetable garden was thoroughly watered, and the seedlings grew strong; the two pigs in the pen had plenty of water. You looked back and forth at the water, sometimes pausing—was that enough? That's enough.

It's there, and the water is there. Whether it's drought or flood, rain or shine, it's always there. It's there when you sleep; it's there when you go out to work; it's still there year after year. That well, like the family's old ox, is silent but most reliable.

The day you brought it in, you knew that the whole family's water supply would be secured. From that day on, water was no longer a problem, and life was no longer a problem.