Insignificance and authenticity
She is a Samaritan; she knows the sting of racism. She is a woman; she’s bumped her head on the ceiling of sexism. She’s been married to five men. Five. Five different marriages. Five different beds. Five different rejections. She knows the sound of slamming doors.
On this particular day, she came to the well at noon. She expected silence. She expected solitude. Instead, she found one who knew her better than she knew herself. He was interested in more than water. He was interested in her heart.
They talked. Who could remember the last time a man had spoken to her with respect? He told her about a spring of water that would quench not the thirst of the throat, but of the soul.
Suddenly the shame of the tattered romances disappeared. Suddenly the insignificance of her life was swallowed by the significance of the moment. “God is here! God has come! God cares...for me!”
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