The tale of the well-digger and the fence-builder

This is the story of two women; one was named “Fence-builder” and the other “Well-digger.” They lived in the same town, on the same street. Fence-builder was a strong and proud woman. Every day she went out to her fields to build and maintain her fences. Her calloused hands and broad shoulders revealed a life of dedicated work; the acreage she possessed was considerable. She felt no small amount of pride when she looked out at her fields. The fences were of the highest quality. She spared no expense; using only the best posts and wire. The gates that separated her fields from others were sturdy and secure. And with these fences, she was able to keep what was hers and keep out what was not. Her flocks rested securely inside the fences. Safe from thieves and predators they seemed to prosper; for a while anyway.

Well-digger also had herds to care for. And like Fence-builder, her hands were calloused and her shoulders broad. She too knew what it meant to work hard, but her work was different. Well-digger’s herds were strong, healthy and prosperous. There seemed never a shortage of young ones scampering about under foot. More often than not, it was crowded around the wells that Well-digger built. To the untrained eye, it probably looked chaotic and poorly planned. But she knew what she was doing. She had a keen eye for the needs of her flock and as soon as it seemed like there were too many mouths to fill at one well, she would simply move a little further away and dig a new well. Predictably, a small portion of the herd would come to check out the new source of water (usually the younger ones!) And there, finding room to stretch their legs, they would stay. Soon the numbers at the new well would grow. And from time to time, stray animals from other herds would wander to the wells. There was always enough water to go around. Sometimes the strays would regain their strength at the wells and return, refreshed to their herds. Sometimes they would stay at the well.

Both women carried on for some time; each devoted to her career. Each concerned about their herds. But soon Fence-builder began to notice that her herd was looking less and less healthy. They seemed weary and distressed. They struggled with more illness than usual. And their growth seemed stunted. She did all she could hauling feed and water several times a day; she tried as best she could to fill the rusting and leaky troughs in the corner of the field. But there never seemed to be enough. And in the stress of trying to provide for this struggling herd, Fence-builder herself began to mirror the same maladies as her herd.

One evening, in a moment of exasperation, she knocked on Well-digger’s door. “Come in friend,” said Well-digger. The two sat down at the kitchen table and before Fence-builder could say a word, Well-digger handed her a large cup filled to the brim with crystal clear, cold water. Fence-builder took a polite sip and found the water to be more refreshing than she thought water could be. She suddenly realized that she had worked hard all day and had not so much as touched a drop of water. All of a sudden, her thirst was overwhelming; forgetting for the moment why she had come, Fence-builder drank the entire cup in one gulp. Water poured down her throat, out the sides of her mouth and down her sweat-stained shirt. Finished, she looked up sheepishly from the empty cup and saw Well-digger smiling. “How can I help you my friend?” Fence-builder took a deep breath and proceeded to share her concerns. “Your herd seems so happy and healthy. Mine is troubled. They are weak, and injured. They don’t produce like yours. I care about them. I just don’t know what to do.” Well-digger thought for a long time about how to respond. Incidentally, the silence gave Fence-builder a chance to refill and drain her cup again with that clear, cold water!

Well-digger finally spoke: I used to be a Fence-builder like you, but I got tired of spending so much time keeping what was mine and keeping out what’s not. I learned that fences are more a means of control than care; you can capture a herd with a fence, but they will always try to escape. And usually they’ll hurt themselves in the process. Herds were not made to be controlled like that. Then one day I discovered an old well in a distant corner of my property. It took a lot of work at first, but I cleared away the growth and debris that had covered the opening and I dug just a bit deeper and found that it was connected with a deep and constant source of water. Before I could even finish the process, the herd had wandered up and began to drink. They were so thirsty, and I was so tired from the digging, that I forgot about building more fences. I realized that what the herd needed (and wanted) most was to satisfy their thirst. And you can’t drink from a fence, but you can from a well. From that day forward, I decided that the best way to use what God has given me was to spend my life digging wells. The work is hard, just like yours, but the results are more consistent. And besides, I always have a source of fresh water for myself!

Fence-builder pondered this for a long time. She wrestled with the implications of Well-digger’s advice; it meant nothing short of a career change. She had spent her life learning how to build great fences; she read fence-building books, went to fence-building conferences, listened to fence-building music, put fence-building stickers on her wheel-barrel, wore fence-building t-shirts to work, and even graduated from a fence-building college! To leave all this behind was frightening…to say the least. Fence-builder didn’t say much more that night.

She thanked Well-digger for the water (she drank 2 cups more before she left!) and went home. Slowly, over the next several days and weeks the wisdom of her neighbor’s words began to sink in. Fence-builder worried less about the fences and began to spend her time digging wells. The work was hard and uncomfortable at first, but as soon as the water began to flow, her herd began to thrive. In time, the fences fell into disrepair, their gates hung open and crooked on their hinges, but the herds were thriving, full of life and so not thirsty!