July 17, 2025
Have you ever thought about the importance, attraction, and power of water?
That thought came to mind the other day as we watched our great-nephew, David Thomas, being baptized in a creek—Hagen Creek, to be exact, coincidentally, or providentially, the name of David’s church, Hagen Creek Community Church.
David’s baptism, many Christians believe, is strictly a symbol—mute testimony of his joining the family of Christ, his young body raised from the water into the newness of life.
No power in the water itself, just a beautiful declaration of faith.
The power of water, however, cannot be exaggerated. Georgia, Florida and Alabama have been fighting over water rights for years. If a state is going to grow—or just maintain what it has already—it must have sufficient water.
The human body requires water. Fortunately, a number of nonprofits provide clean water to underdeveloped nations that struggle to keep their citizens not hydrated, but alive.
Livestock and crop farmers and businesses everywhere depend on water for their existence.
Where do people want to go on vacation? Somewhere there’s a body of water. Even if they don’t want to swim or fish or cruise in a boat, they want water to look at. That’s the attraction of water.
Until I was past puberty, I didn’t know a family could vacation anywhere except Lake Rabun, located in the northeast corner of Georgia. That’s where we went every summer for years. The fishing and swimming were fun, and, if Daddy had a little extra money, we’d take a ride in one of those sleek Chris Craft speedboats with mahogany sides at Hall’s Boat House, where a sign warned everyone, “No Dancing on Sunday.”
Even my grandparents, Mama and Papa Hudgins, had a fish pond at the front of their farmhouse, which was nice until bedtime, when bullfrogs from all over the county held a protracted revival with lots of loud, bass singing.
Several years ago, my wife and I spent a few days near the Panhandle of Florida, the Emerald Coast, they call it, because that’s what color Gulf water is. We could look at the ocean from the living room window. It was too cold to get a close-up view.
Sometimes we like to go to a nice restaurant and get a table next to the water so we can look at it. At a Florida restaurant, we walk in at 5:30—that’s when you can get the best price—and the maitre d’ looks down his snooty nose and says, “Do you have reservations?”
“No, we don’t,” I say.
“Let me see if we can work you in,” he says, and he looks at the chart on his pulpit and escorts us to one of those 20 empty tables in the middle of the restaurant, away from the windows and the view.
There’s no doubt: Clean water, probably next to air, is the world’s most wonderful element, whether it’s for a baptism, for growing potatoes, or just to view.
I’m just thankful to have it.
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Phil Hudgins is a retired newspaper editor and author from Gainesville, Ga. Reach him at phudgins@cninewspapers.com.
