Go ahead. I'll wait.
Look at the water.
Dip your fingers into it. Get your hands wet. Put some on your face and in your hair.
But don't get any on your computer...
What is water? Hydrogen and oxygen molecules combined miraculously to create vapor, liquid, and ice. It is the most important thing in the world - all life forms depend on water in some way. All animals and plants would die without it.
I'm not sure there are many things that fascinate me more than water does. It falls from the sky. It drips from the faucet when I want to fill the kettle, cascades from the showerhead when I want to get the sweat and dirt off my weary body, and bursts forth from the spigot outside the house when I want to wash the minivan.
I stare at it, bathe in it, cook with it, get annoyed with it when it falls on days when I'd like to be outside, but love when it falls on days that I'd like to spend inside reading and drinking tea. I heat it up, pour it out, swim in it, drive over it, clean with it, but somehow never manage to drink enough of it.
Today, tonight, I am especially grateful for water.
Since writing this post more than three hours ago, I've washed dishes, played with watercolor paints, and sucked down more than sixteen ounces of this life-sustaining nectar.
Ask the current and former residents of New Orleans or Aceh or any of the coastal towns, villages and cities of Japan what water can do and how much water can destroy. Ask the current and former residents of the countries of Australian, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and even these United States what the lack of water can do to crops, rivers, and entire ways of life. Ask anyone whose water supply is powered by electricity how helpless they feel during power outages. Ask someone whose house is in flames whether or not having a fire hydrant on the block is a necessity or a nuisance.
Water can wash sand off our feet and wash pollution up onto the beach. Water can wash over us and wash us away. Water can cascade gently over a delicate water feature in a hotel lobby and crash through the wall of a beachfront home. Water can drip annoyingly from a leaky kitchen faucet and roar ferociously over the waterfalls of Iguazu.
Before going to bed tonight, I plan to slowly drink one more glass of cold water
and give thanks for every sweet swallow.
Thanks be to God for this indescribable gift.