One night, her body aching beyond words, Teresa knelt on the hard ground and prayed in a whisper meant only for the soil beneath her knees.
“My God, I don’t know if I chose right. But my daughters need me. If there is a blessing buried in this land… show me where.”
The earth remained silent.
For now.
And beneath that cracked, forgotten ground, something waited—something no one had ever expected.
The next day he made a decision that was both desperate and brave.
If the surface wasn’t enough, I would dig deeper.
He chose a corner of the land and began to dig a large hole. Each shovelful was a struggle with the earth. The neighbors mocked him.
—He’s digging his own grave.
Teresa didn’t answer. She just dug.
One morning, when the hole was already deep, the sound of the earth changed. Teresa stuck the hoe in and felt moisture. She dug again. And then she heard something different.
Water…..
First it sprouted slowly. Then with force. Clear, alive, rising from the deepest depths.
Teresa fell to her knees, soaked, laughing and crying at the same time.
