Lent: Day Thirty-Nine

Sometimes words are no good. I mean, being a writer, I hate to admit that, but it's true. I've known since I started this Lenten blog that I wanted this photo to come near the end. And I knew I wanted to write something beautiful about what it was like to watch Jorge place his hands under the clean water of his village's new well. I wanted to write about what it was like to watch him take his first drink.

But now that the big moment is here, I can't do it. I have no beautiful words. All I have is the honest truth that I've sat here staring at this photo for about half an hour, crying my eyes out in a funny mixture of joy and wonderment.

Who am I that God would allow me to be part of giving water to the desperately thirsty? The feeling is indescribable.

Jorge and his people waited 240 days for this moment.

Millions around the world are still waiting.

I fast so the wait will be over.

And I fast so more sentimental journalists like me will have the wonderful experience of having no words good enough to capture "that moment."

Won't you join me? To donate to Living Water International, go here. To go on a trip of your own, go here.