If you look out of the windows from my upstairs bathroom, you can see a fairly large field across the road from the house. When we moved in this past Fall, the field was still a beautiful green and seemed to call out to me to come run through it…to feel the cool grass upon my bare feet, and the soft breeze in my hair. I would have too, but of course time didn’t allow.

Now, since it is the middle of winter, the field is a frozen, barren desert…lonesome and desolate. There is no soft breeze to call out enticingly to me, only frigid winds that whip across the landscape with amazing brutality, occasionally stirring the snow up into a chaotic flurry of snow and wind. Such a contrast from the verdant scene just a few short months ago, and hardly something I’d want to lose myself in.

As I looked out upon this winter scene just recently, I realized that this field and I had much in common. There have been times, many in fact, where my soul resembled that fragrant landscape I saw this past Fall. There was peace, tranquility and happiness all around. Other times however…more times than I would like to admit… it has resembled the desolate terrain that permeates the view outside my window. Cold, dark and lonesome, with the occasional chaotic squall to throw everything into pandemonium. It is this “field” I wish most to avoid, but end up having to endure time and time again. My only consolation is that soon…very soon…Spring will come again to melt the frost from the inner most corners of my heart. And it is then that I will run through the green, fragrant grasses, seeking out that which is calling me in the soft breeze.