I admit it; I have never been an outdoors person.  I have camped, I actually camped a lot with my husband when we were younger – and it was the old-fashioned way of camping – pitching a tent and sleeping in a sleeping bag on the hard ground.  But, for the most part, I prefer to remain indoors reading a book or carousing on the computer or, yes, GASP, watching TV.

Yes, I was a couch potato.  And then, four years ago, my son departed for college and left behind a very spoiled and needy Beagle who insisted on two walks a day.  My husband and I agreed to split the doggy walking detail and suddenly I was digging out a pair of dry-rotted tennis shoes and hitting the road.  Our walks at first consisted of Gunny dragging me up the road as he sniffed each and every twig, leaf and tree.  I huffed and puffed and swore and had to bend over to catch my breath.  Eventually I began to get into shape and lose some weight. 

In the beginning, all I cared about on our daily sojourns into nature was getting back home to the comforts of my house and… an ice cold Pepsi.  I kept my eye on the narrow road and focused on turning and burning to get back home.  I was forced to keep a slower pace because Mr. Gunny had to check out bugs and hidden treasures on the ground.  My pet peeve with him (no pun intended) was when he would veer off course and began to roll in the grass with abandon.  He would do this for several minutes at a time.  He makes these little Snoopy noises and performs a rolling dance with a huge smile on his face.

 And that's when I started to change.  I learned to slow my pace and to open my eyes to the beauty of the world outside.  Our little country back road offers some of the most spectacular scenery and is ever-changing throughout the four seasons.  For the first time ever I watched with hope as the dreary winter trees began to burst forth with buds and the promise of spring.  Day after day I checked on their progress as the buds slowly and methodically unfurled bright green leaves.  Long forgotten flower bulbs awakened from their winter's nap and majestically rose up to embrace the sun's warmth and bring color and hope to the inhabitants of earth.

A very special young man recently said, "I feel alive when I am outside."  I know exactly what he means now.  Each morning I hit the floor and wonder what new miracle of life God has bestowed upon us as we slumbered.  I grab Gunny's leash and my camera and we burst out the front door, ready to embark up a new adventure.  I no longer worry about power walking or burning calories.  I smell the fresh air and feel a caressing breeze upon my cheek.  I hear birds sing and watch chipmunks and squirrels scamper across the road.  Sometimes Gunny and I spy a family of deer dart into the safety of the woods. Wild turkeys stop their foraging to gaze quizzically at us and then get back to their business.

And the flowers – oh the flowers.  Their vibrant beauty brings joy and gladness into a world that can be sad, lonely, scary and dark.  Just like a rainbow, I believe it's God's way of saying, "I am here with you always, even in your darkest moments.  Trust and believe."

Have your moment of splendor in the grass, Gunny.  Roll and roll and roll.  Celebrate life and find joy in the small moments.