The misty days are lifting, and the last flecks of brown blades turn green.  The reaching out to the universe in bursts of joy, are visibly swift and exuberant.

There is nothing left at the bottom, and even though it's possible to watch the demise, and know what's happening while succumbing to a long harsh season, sometimes, Mother nature has a way of allowing it to be a part the cycle of life.  And finally, giving in to rest is okay.  The faith that comes only from this lowest point, turns the world colorful again as the bondage and captivity break away and feed new possibilities.

The truth in the nature that I am, allows there to be a power greater than me within myself and in everything I see. 

The freedom that comes in knowing truth... is God.

This season of stormy billows is the answer to next seasons hope.  And as it goes, this augments the winds of hope to blow in across any land at any time. 

Where ever I am - I am.  Everything will be there if I can at least bring along just a tiny prayer to restore faith, when all else is lost in the harshest conditions of alcoholism.  Faith is always waiting in the truth that I am.