I come home from work, exhausted. I immediately grab a bag of salty chips, drop a couple of ice cubes into a glass of Diet Coke, and go to the living room for some r&r in front of the boob tube. I look at my watch and see that I still have an hour before my husband and children come home from their obligations. After flipping through 30 or 40 channels, finding nothing but mindless sit-coms and stock-market reports, I turn the television off.

What am I going to do now? I put on my tennis shoes and sweater and head out the door.

I don't know what motivated me to take this journey; it wasn't depression, but it wasn't sheer boredom either. My steps lead me to the woods behind my house. As I breathe in the fresh air, drinking the passionate scent of cedar and pine and tasting the sweet bouquet of wild flowers, I realize that this is just what I need.

I sit at my pew, a fallen tree, and look toward heaven. I see the sun glisten through the stained-glass autumn leaves; and on a tree branch high above me, I hear a congregation of mockingbirds singing their hymns in harmony. To my left, the tall grass and undergrowth are swaying to the music, and to my right, the inattentive brown-eyed susans are mingling with the daisies. Even so, while the birds and flowers might seem distracting, I can still hear the sermon of the whispering wind and distant creek.

I am humbled by the magnificence that surrounds me.

Suddenly, I realize the inspiration, the force that urged me to travel to this spot. Thank you, God, for this cathedral of tranquility. Thank you for this renewed sense of purpose. I am now prepared to toil another day in this beautiful world that You designed.