Are you thirsty?
Some of the
Coolest
Most refreshing
Deepest cleansing
Absolutely soothing
W A T E R
doesn’t come from a faucet
Doesn’t pour from a pitcher
Doesn’t spill from a glass
Doesn’t cascade down from the sky

Are you thirsty
Sip with your eyes
Drink with your fingers
Gulp with your ears

Have your fill
And then go about
Quenching
Another’s dripless
Yearning

It’s not so much
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME
YOU DRANK YOUR FILL
so much as 
WHEN  WAS  THE  LAST  TIME
YOU  QUENCHED  A  THIRST.            .            .

If you’re not letting
YOUR   WATER
f               l               o               w
you are
stinking stagnant .            .            .

When  was  the  last  time  you  suffered

T H E       L A S T       S T R A W ?

When  was  the  worst  time  you  endured

T H E      L A S T      S T R A W ?

When  was  the  last  time  you  were  an  Actual

New   Straw   G I V E R?

I could hear him down the hallway long before I reached his room.

He wasn’t the patient I had planned to see that afternoon.

He was a new hospice patient,

who had just come in shortly after lunch.         .         .

He was loud

He was screaming out

for what sounded like a life raft.

There was a lot of activity in the hall way

with someone pushing a food cart;

nurses changing shifts,

visitors and families walking behind patients,

aids serving  patients  needs

but he might as well have been on deserted island.       .       .

and maybe that was his

 last   straw.       .       .

When I walked into the room,

he literally didn’t notice me

for all of his screaming.       .          .

The source of his   LAST STRAW   moment,

literally involved a straw.

It was on the floor.

In reaching for his glass of water,

he obviously misjudged his aim and knocked the glass off his tray.

There wasn’t a lot of water on the floor,

maybe a healthy sip,

but his last straw just wasn’t merely that his cup and straw were on the floor,

but he screaming and yelling

brought no one to retrieve it.

Alone again.

Forgotten again.

Ignored again.

Unheard again.

Angry at his life (or lack thereof),

his predicament,

his illness,

his lack of control,

his isolation.       .       .

he bellowed out!

His face was red and wet with sweat

from screaming out.          .          .

His eyes damp

and his heart empty and broken.

“Here, let me help,”

I said bending down to pick up his cup and straw.

I threw both away in the nearby waste basket

and went down the hall

and got him another cup,

some ice water

 and   yes,

a soon-to-be-another—

L   A   S  T       S  T  R  A  W.

As he was sipping loudly,

I went and dampened a wash cloth with some cool water

and wiped the top of his head, his forehead and cheeks.

I filled up his cup again.     .     .

He drank.      .      .

 He   stopped   slurping.  .  .

as the straw made the sound

 it does

as he sucked up the last few sips

at the bottom.     .     .

Thirst   Q U E N C H E D.          .          .       

He put his hand over top of mine as I held his cup,

extended toward him.

We didn’t exchanged words.     .     .

didn’t have to, either.

He didn’t ask me who I was

or why I was there

and I didn’t tell him

Funny isn’t it.         .         .

the greatest way to eliminate

The Last Straw is.        .        .

.        .         . is just to make sure

T     H     E     R     E          I     S     N ‘  T          O     N     E !

When was the last time you

Suffered  The   LAST   STRAW?

When was the worst time you endured

The  LAST   STRAW?

W     h     e     n,

when was the Last Time

you   actually   were   a

New     Straw     Giver?

Maybe the Hmmmmmmmm of the Day

is realizing that when you are a Straw Provider,

you not only eliminate the Last Straw Syndrome.       .      .

you’ll never have to tolerate a  

Last   Straw   Moment

yourself—-E V E R!

Well now.       .       .

that kind of ceases to,

uhhh, forgive me.      .      .

Suck Like A STRAW.         .         .         .

Sometimes the water from another’s Well might not be any colder, but it sure does taste better. . . .

Have you ever tasted it?  Ever felt it go all the way down your throat into your stomach?

Jimmy Pettit was one of my friends.  We lived a hundred miles away from each other, but not on weekends.  On the weekends we both went to our summer camp grounds–our families had one room cabins with two bedrooms and a small bathroom.  There were about 10 camps in all and his was just across the gravel road.

He was respite for me from my two brothers and my sister and I gave him a reprieve from his brother.

Buddies. . .Pals. . .Friends. . .Idiots. . . .

We’d swim, fish, hunt and hike together.

It was one, long, hot hike on a sunny morning that turned into an afternoon.

Instead of walking along the creek like we had done hundreds of times, we decided to go up unto the hills to do some exploring.

How thirsty have you ever been?

It wasn’t getting hungry that was the problem…it was the I-hope-I-see-an-oasis-mirage-before-I-blink-my-eyes-thirsty.

What I did see, was one of the best things I ever laid my eyes–even to this day:

An old fashion water pump

Seriously. . .you ever use one. . .have you actually ever drank from an old water pump?

H      I      N      T :

It takes at least two to really get a drink from the old standing water pump out in the middle of nowhere on the edge of an unkept farm house.

It felt like my arm was going to fall off.  I pumped and pumped and pumped and pumped and. . .

. . .and then it started coming out in a cold, long, wet stream. . .and it never stopped, as long as you would keep pumping.

I’ve often thought about that as a metaphor for my life

                                                                                                  when I felt like giving up. . .

                                                                                                  when I felt responsible for my grandfather’s death

                                                                                                  when I had to miss a basketball season with bad knees

                                                                                                  when I went away to school

                                                                                                  when I got married a week out of college

                                                                                                  when I went away to Seminary

                                                                                                  when I became a dad

                                                                                                  when I began at my first church

                                                                                                  when I got divorced

                                                                                                  when I ran 7 and a half marathons

                                                                                                  when I got married again

                                                                                                  when I became a hospice chaplain

                                                                                                  when I self-published books

                                                                                                  when I became a grandfather

                                                                                                  when I became a professional speaker

                                                                                                  when doors closed and windows wouldn’t open

                                                                                                  when I. . .

I remember pumping water that day. . .I remember working hard to get the water to come up deep from that well and just when it didn’t seem like it was ever going to come out. . .there. . .there. . .it was.

I didn’t have to pump as hard after that, but I had to make sure, especially after all the hard work to get it flow, I didn’t want to stop. . .didn’t want to start all over again and I didn’t as long as I kept the long, steady stroke of bringing that glorious water forth.

Jimmy drank first from his cupped hands and then he let it pour over his head and finally laid upside down and let it pour into his mouth, his throat. . .

. . .and then. . .and then. . .it was my turn.  I did the same thing. . .I drank and let the water run over my head and finally just laid underneath of it and let it fill up my mouth and run down my throat, too.

We took turns, getting drenched and drinking our fill, all the time, making sure the water wasn’t going to stop flowing;

The Secret:

 We never stopped pumping. . .getting soak. . .drinking

The Lesson:

We needed each other to quench our thirsts. . .our truest Thirsts

The Hope:

We may all be Water Pumped

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