One of the greatest features in my backyard is a water fountain. The fountain has a boy and girl standing under an umbrella while the water trickles down and falls back into the water at their feet. Sitting on the patio listening to the water brings many things to mind. The fountain causes me to think about the gentle rains that fell outside my raised window as a child in Bartlesville Oklahoma. A simpler time when you could sleep at night with the window open so that you could hear the sounds of the night and feel the cool breeze on your face. I remember many times waking to the aroma of a fresh rain shower and laying there listening and breathing in what felt like freshly made air.
The fountain reminds me of a weekend excursion with my dad that took us to “Trail Ridge Road” in the Rocky Mountains. A late afternoon baseball game in Northglenn Colorado that is played with an anticipation of its conclusion, because I know that my dad, my hero, the man I want to grow up to be just like, has attached a borrowed travel trailer to his car for a weekend getaway. Just me and dad leaving the girls behind because they, the girls, aren’t allowed in the wilderness where real men explore the great outdoors. Waking to a babbling brook just a few feet away from the door of our cabin on wheels, I kneel down to look at the crystal clear water and experience freshly melted snow that has transformed into a frigid home of some of the most amazing trout I had ever seen. The mountain air is quickly overtaken by the smell of bacon. A breakfast that is surely being prepared for a king awaits me inside. Our breakfast is enjoyed as only two “men” could appreciate, slowly with the windows wide open so we can listen to the wind whisk down the valley and rush into our weekend home on wheels. The river’s musical melody follows closely behind.
The fountain reminds me of Anne and I sitting next to a river that runs through Helen Georgia. As we sit, enjoying each other’s company over a delicious meal, we listen to the river rolling by and the laughter of children that are riding on inner tubes on this somewhat lazy river. The sweet sounds combined together bring a joy to my heart and a desire enters into my heart that one day I will have a child with this amazing woman that we can introduce to the fountain that never runs dry.
The fountain that Jesus suggested to a woman at a well in a small town of Samaria. Not a well that only holds water that can be drawn from by an individual, or a body of water that is never moving and stays still, possibly even becoming stagnant. He suggested the fountain that can and will well up and produce eternal life.
As I listen to this simple fountain I realize that memories are not just things we can draw on from the past, but memories are hopes and promises that are never ending and keep us looking toward the future. These memories come from simply listening to the fountain. One of the greatest features in my backyard is a water fountain. The fountain that when the world seems somewhat heavy and demanding, I can step outside my backdoor, flip a switch, and instantly transform my world into a gentle rainstorm, a babbling brook, or even a riverside cafe with my beautiful wife. The fountain….ever flowing, rising and falling, powerfully changing my focus to a simpler time or a sanctuary of peace, hope, and joy.