You stand at the entrance to a forest. A blue-black night has settled over the leaves atop the trees, sucking in the light and letting none reach the floor below. There are brambles and thorns, sharp as knives and twisting all around you. And, most of all, there is fear. Fear of the night, fear of the dark, fear of the unknown laid before you. What will the next step bring? Will you trip on the roots? Will you prick on the thorns? Will you lose your way in this great forest?

​

In this moment you feel alone. But, look, there is a path. It is narrow and the way is long—but there is a path. Closer now, see the footsteps. Countless millions of footsteps meandering through the oily pitch of the night. Footsteps of those who have just walked the way; freshly stamped in the loamy soil. Ancient footsteps of those whose faces are long lost to the memories of time—but they mark the path all the same. There are even footsteps you recognize—of people you know. They, too, have walked the path that now opens before you.

​

Now, look again! The glow. The light. The immovable beacon affixed at the end of the road. It twinkles out there like a solitary candle in the middle of a vast ocean of midnight. There are times when it is hard to see; when you feel as if you may blink and it may disappear. But, no, it is there, always there, fighting tirelessly to guide you on your journey.

​

Keep your eyes fixed on the shining flame that pierces the dark night of your fear. For in that glow there is a garden. You have not yet been there, but it is yours. It is where you will plant your roots and grow with fruitful abundance the life that you carry with you now. It is your love, your life, your future. The warmth of its sun will bring indescribable joy to all who know it. In it you will house all your hopes and dreams for the tomorrow that is fast approaching. It is your garden, and it calls to you.

​

Courage! Now! Your feet are sore, but the soil is soft. It welcomes you and guides you down the path. Go, take a step. Then take another.  Feel the ridges and grooves by those who came before. Leave your own mark on this most timeless of roads.

​

And keep your eyes fixed on the light of the garden ahead.