Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink...

Well, not out of our taps, anyway. The Dallas area became a literal ice rink last week, just in time to welcome the visitors to the Super Bowl festivities. By some fluke, we had the good fortune to be visited by a lovely ice clog that prevented any water from entering our house for 3 1/2 days.

It felt much longer.

We still have no idea where the pipes were clogged. Nothing frozen on the inside of the house, no way of knowing where on the outside, just...nothing. Last year, the lake froze but our pipes were fine. This year, the exact opposite. But I guess that's they whimsy that Mother Nature loves so much! At least She provided 6" of snow on Friday for us to harvest and use the melt to flush our toilets. We felt a bit like pioneers doing that, I must say, though the intrepid souls who went out West didn't have pantries full of food, plenty of heated comfort around, and blazing fast internet.

What I was struck the most by during the time of water shortage was how empty the house felt.

Sure, going without a shower for a couple of days while waiting for the roads to become passable again was inconvenient, but the fact that there was no tap flowing made the whole place feel derelict, decrepit, and just plain sad. Even the warmth of the fireplace barely cut through the gasping feeling that one gets when holding your breath for too long. Or maybe it was the open cabinet doors and all of the water jugs lining the countertops...regardless, the combination was like a one-two punch to our psyches. Gratefully, we accepted offers of showers, laundry services, and any other comforts that we thought we needed. But when it comes right down to it, this brief moment of discomfort brought a valuable lesson to all of us.

Water is precious.

One gallon of water isn't much for bathing, but can get the job done. One gallon of water doesn't come close to flushing a toilet effectively. One gallon of water will, if carefully rationed, wash the dinner dishes, though not as well as I'm used to. And one gallon looks mighty puny when you finally slake your thirst.

I thought that we had been pretty good at conserving our natural resources, but when you have to carry each precious drop across town over ice-covered roads, one begins to analyze the usage very carefully. Does this really need washing? Is hand sanitizer OK or do I need soap? Does that plant REALLY need water? How long can we go without flushing? In fact, that last question was the one that was the most challenging. Thank you, Mr. Crapper, for inventing the flush toilet!

The gurgle that heralded the return of our easy access to H2O was met with elation, and a deep appreciation of our blessings. After all, living with limited access to water is the norm for millions, and access to clean, abundant water is but a dream for even more. Thank you, you life-giving font, for continuing to bless us abundantly.

And the pipes? Perfectly intact, thank you very much! WooHOO!!!