Last weekend, we visited a small village in the Languedoc region of Southern France. On a little street was a water fountain. Sammy was thirsty, and with a few pumps, Stéfane filled the metal bucket to the brim. Instead of charging in and drinking deeply, Sammy approached it cautiously. He thoroughly sniffed the outside of the bucket, from top to bottom, the handle, then the water. Satisfied it was good, he lapped it up eagerly.

Watching him, the old saying “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink” came to mind.

I always thought it was about stubbornness, and heaven knows both horses and Sammy can be stubborn, but perhaps there’s more to it.

When Sammy finished drinking, he shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere. Stéfane poured the remaining water in the bucket onto the nearby grass and bushes. The water seeped into the ground and was absorbed by the moss and grass. It splashed on the bushes and the hard red berries. The same berries that birds eat to sustain themselves over the winter.

After witnessing Sammy’s careful inspection of the water, my thoughts shifted from “leading a horse or dog to water” to “being led to believe“.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve begun a sentence with, “Well, I’ve been led to believe…” and then confidently stated my position. Or sometimes it felt like a convenient disclaimer: It’s not my fault for saying this—someone led me to this belief, this water, and I was thirsty.

The truth is, we are all led to water. Over a lifetime, we’re led to buckets filled with the beliefs of family, teachers, friends, media, religion, and politicians. Often, we drink deeply without pausing to look inside or even take a small taste. Once our thirst is quenched, whatever remains gets thrown out onto the grass.

Some buckets are old and cracked, clearly past their prime. Others may hold slightly green water, with algae clinging to the edges. We can see the problem, yet we might still take a drink because someone told us these algae have anti-aging properties and boost our immune system. Worse yet, the water might be contaminated with slimy, invisible bacteria that can infect our systems and rapidly or slowly poison us over time. The bucket may be full of intolerance, hate, cruelty, fear, racism, and stereotypes. These are not things people are born with, but things they are “led to believe” are true.

We may be led to buckets overflowing with kindness, inclusion, patience, and love. The water in them is clear and sparkling, like the stars, catching the light no matter how dark the surroundings. This is the kind of water that refreshes and strengthens us. This water doesn’t shout or demand loyalty, offer empty promises, or rely on fear of thirst to keep us coming back for more. Instead, it quietly nourishes empathy, encouraging us to see one another as fully human, messy, complex, and worthy of grace. And when the water left in these buckets spills over into the grass and bushes around us, it doesn’t choke or poison what it touches. It helps grow empathy, tolerance, and the courage to do the right thing.

I was fortunate to grow up in a household that embraced diversity. We hosted exchange students from all over the world, and in turn, I was an exchange student immersed in new cultures and languages. Those early buckets mattered. They were filled with curiosity, openness, and the understanding that there is more than one way to move through the world. That is water I need to keep drinking.

Still, I know I have consumed my share of tainted water, and perhaps I still am. Some of it was subtle, passed along casually, and swallowed without question. It is time to take a hard look at the buckets I have been led to over the years and the water that has sustained me. After honest evaluation, I must decide what to stop drinking and what to deliberately seek out and return to: water that strengthens empathy, sharpens awareness, and keeps me awake rather than bloated or comfortable.

And then there’s the harder question: Am I leading others to water? What is in my bucket? What am I leading them to believe? Yikes. That kind of self-reflection definitely requires more than one glass of wine!

Honestly, I need to be more like Sammy. He never drinks without first examining the source, whether a bowl, a bucket, or even a puddle after the rain. When we first moved to our little fishing village on the Mediterranean Sea, he took a big gulp of a salty incoming wave, then froze for half a second, eyes wide, processing such a betrayal. He coughed, snorted dramatically, and smacked his lips furiously, as if the water had personally offended him.

The truth is, we will always be led to water, but in the end, it is our choice what we drink.