The Man and The Well

One clear, crisp evening the farmer heard a voice - a soft voice - it echoed throughout the valley and among the freshly packed bails of hay. It even swam throughout the barnhouse and across the pond. He heard it singing a sweet melody, a song more beautiful than anything he ever heard. It was so beautiful, in fact, he nearly wept at the ringing of each note. The farmer was not bothered by the music, but he welcomed it as any kind farmer would. Although he did grow quite curious as to where the music was coming from. When it was three days past the first night he encountered the lovely music; the farmer decided to investigate it's origins. So the farmer began following the sweet voice like a string of beautiful clues leading him towards heaven itself. The farmer heard the sounds getting louder and more intense each step of the way. He began weeping uncontrollably. He did not weep tears of pain and sorrow, but of joy and happiness, for the music was more beautiful than any sound which had ever touched his ears. The man finally reached what he believed to be the source of the beautiful voice. And he came upon a well. The same well he drew water from each morning. It was an old well made of flat grey rocks chipped and weathered from extensive rainfall and bitter-cold-winters. The rocks were aged and covered in a strange vine accompanied by dried, dead moss. The bucket was nearly rusted and had several holes which prevented the farmer from extracting a considerable amount of water from the well. The rope which lowered and lifted the bucket up each time was tethered and peeling like an old shoelace. The farmer saw nothing of value in the well itself. He even planned to build a new one very soon. But it was what was inside of the well which brought life; the water, of course. Now, the water was singing to him the most beautiful song he had ever heard. He lowered the bucket into the water, and began to fill it up. Then he slowly began to raise the bucket up inch by inch. When the bucket reached the top of the well the farmer saw something glimmering. The moonlight was striking a shiny object in the bucket. He dipped his hand into the water of the bucket and pulled out a golden key. It was no ordinary key, but one covered in fine gems and jewels - rubies, sapphires, cobalt, diamonds. The farmer gazed in awestruck wonder at the prize which he had found. The key was magnificient. He began shouting for joy and dancing in amazement. "How could such a beautiful prize come out of such an old, worthless well?" he asked himself. He ran quickly back to his room to view it in better light. The farmer pulled out his magnifying glass and discovered a fine printing on the side of the key. It read "This key is no ordinary key. It belongs to the King. Whoever finds this must use it wisely. He may not use it to open any ordinary door, but only the one appointed by the King. Do this and you will live." The farmer became very confused and even grew a little nervous at the reading of this. He set the key down but never took his eye off of it. He began pacing back and forth attempting to figure out the meaning of the fine printing on the side of the key. When, at last, he noticed the tip of the key, it's particular shape. He had seen the shape before. It was very familiar to him. "No, it can't be" he thought to himself. "Is it really?" he asked himself. The farmer began to quickly pull his shirt off, and there, in the middle of his chest, exactly in the center of his own heart, was a hole. This hole had been there from his birth, and the farmer never knew why he had it. He was always ashamed of it because none of the other farmers nearby had a hole like it. The farmer picked up the key. His palms began to sweat and his hand jittered a bit. He reluctantly moved the key closer to his chest. And, all at once, he plunged the key into the hole. He screamed loudly for it was very painful, but he did not remove the key. Instead, he turned it three times to the right. Each time he let out loud cries for it was terribly painful. But, upon the final click of the last turn, the man's eyes lit aglow and his mouth dropped wide open. Bright beams of light began to pour out of his fingertips and toes, and loud music, the same music he heard coming from the well, flowed forth from the man's voice. It was a symphony, a chorus of the most beautiful melodies and songs ever played. The trees, the birds, the grass, the stars, and the moon all began to weep tears of joy at the sound of the man's voice. The earth and everything in it melted with joy at the song whose theme is redeeming love. (To be continued . . .)