Last summer, we visited a friend on his family land in eastern Tennessee. The stone cabin under construction at the top of the hill seemed like a metaphor for the young couple’s marriage—strong yet fledgling, promising yet new. The view from the hilltop must have been spectacular one hundred years ago; it was still quite pleasant. But now the skyline was obscured by a persistent haze. The nearby mountains, it was explained, act like a catcher’s mitt, keeping a close hold on the ball of smog that collects in this region.

But it wasn’t only the pollution that detracted from the view. We were standing on the only large tract of land that had resisted a highly destructive invasive species—suburban sprawl.

After our picnic, I dipped a 5-gallon bucket into the barrel that connects to a rainspout on the roof and started to carry water to their newly planted saplings. After the first round, I realized that 5 gallons was too heavy for me to carry any significant distance, so I started filling the bucket halfway full. Despite the drought, they had enough water collected in the makeshift rain barrel to bring several gallons to each young tree.

Driving home, I confessed to Matthew that I had never really thought about how much water weighs and how much energy it must take to pump it up from the river and to our home. It takes about 5 gallons to flush a traditional toilet, and about 2 gallons to flush a low-flow toilet. Imagine if we had to carry that water from several miles away, like the people Matthew met when practicing medicine in Honduras. I think I would be much more careful about the water I pour down the drain.

The Bible is full of references to women drawing water from wells—women like Rebekah, who was kind to God’s creatures and remembered to water the camels, and the Samaritan woman with five husbands, who met Jesus and found eternal life. These women were reminded daily that water is a gift from God, not something to take for granted when we turn on the tap.

Carrying those pails of water to the saplings reminded me that it’s not just water we conserve when we take shorter showers; it’s also the energy it takes to transport that water. It requires loving and grateful hearts, in relationships of marriage and in relationships with God, to appreciate the gifts right before us.

Reducing Water Waste

Below are some ways to make the most of your water at home and in your yard.  

• Use drip irrigation. Instead of using regular sprinklers, water your flower bed and garden using drip irrigation or a soaker hose. This method saves water by minimizing evaporation and watering only the base of your plants. Water savings: up to 70 percent of the water typically used
• Use a shut-off nozzle. To prevent waste when the water is turned off and your hose is not being used, fit your garden hose with a shut-off nozzle. Water savings: up to 6.5 gallons per minute
• Plant a native garden. Conserve water by replacing little-used grass areas like your front yard with a native garden. A native garden can reduce street noise and offer more privacy for you and your family. 
• Use mulch. Mulching your plants reduces the amount of water lost through evaporation, limits weed growth, and improves soil conditions. Water savings: 70 percent of water typically lost through evaporation
• Reclaim your water. Collect water that has been used for bathing, washing dishes, and other household duties, and use it to water your plants.
• Cover your pool. When you’re not going for a swim, cover your pool to reduce water lost to evaporation. Water savings: 90 percent of water typically lost through evaporation

How great is God—beyond our understanding! . . . He draws up the drops of water, which distill as rain to the streams; the clouds pour down their moisture and abundant showers fall on mankind.  Job 36:26-28 (NIV)

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.