A man was very thirsty when he came upon a small pond. There was an old man sitting by the side of the pond sipping a glass of water.
The man knew the water was safe, for the old man was in fine shape. So he bent down to take a handful of water to his mouth.
“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.” The old man said. Startled, the man threw the water back into the pond. He looked at the old man with squinty eyes.
“Where’d you get the water you’re drinking?” The man’s voice had a twinge of greed. The old man just peered up under the brim of his hat. “I got it from the pond.” Was the slow and level response.
“Do you own this pond?” The man asked. “Nope. I got directions here.” Now the thirsty man was a bit perplexed. “This ain’t your pond. But you can sit there and drink the water while I dehydrate to death? This is crazy!”
“Son, there is a pond for strangers at the bottom of the hill. You can drink till you explode down there. The water here is poisoned.” The man gave the old man a sidewards glance. “If its poisoned, how come you ain’t dead?”
The old man stretched a bit, like he was remembering a fond moment. “I got a bag of healing powder from the guy who owns this place. That’s why I can drink this here water. But you better not son.”
The thirsty man would have stood there to argue, but he was far too thirsty. So he gave a dry spit toward the old man and started down the hill.
He heard the old man mutter, “Pride. . . You’ll be back boy. Somebody thirsty as you is bound to meet the owner of this place.” Not understanding what he meant, the thirsty man just kept going.
By His Grace
Words From There 