Cattle grazing on wide, open fields remind me of a bad time in my life. Because of what someone had deliberately done to me, I was hurting. I wanted to run away from the pain, but couldn’t.
But then, one day, I was driving past a huge, sun-drenched field of grass and cows, and I got the wildest urge to pull off the road, drive across the ditch, and stop by the fence. I thought about slipping under the barbed wire and running to the middle of the flat pasture. I wanted to sit in the grass, wrap my arms around my knees, and shut my eyes. All I needed was to stay there with only cows meandering around me—the sun on my back and head. The scene spoke of total peace—warmth, safety, comfort, and healing. I almost couldn’t push the urge away.
When I shared my crazy thoughts with a cousin, he reminded me of what I might sit on. Ha. But I didn’t care. Even now—though years have slipped by—if I pass that field, the thought still tugs at me. It doesn’t call out with the desperate pull it did back then, but the calmness still beckons.
Karen Campbell Prough
Copyright © Karen Campbell Prough 2017
WITHIN THE CANDLE’S GLOW
I believe we’ve all had friends who became strangers.
We stop confiding in them, because the trust level is no longer there.
And many times we don’t ask God for protection or for healing within a relationship. We feel as if things are no longer clear.
We begin to feel alone, heading for danger, with no one scrambling to help us.
But suddenly we sense someone does cares. They will be there for us.
Hope and love begin to feel like the glow of a candle.
~Karen Campbell Prough