"By yourself?" He asked.

"Yes, alone." And addressing the reality of the moment, I added, "would you please take care of bathing and dressing Zane? I will make breakfast."

I quickly showered and my son and I ate while visions of the white blanket peeked in through our unveiled windows. I was anxious to admire the artwork which accented our familiar neighborhood.

Within minutes I was aware of the sound of crunching snow beneath my feet. Immediately, I imagined the trees to be hushing me as they twitched at my presence and snow fell from their bare branches, swish-shhhush. Before the plows erased their sentences, I began to read tire tracks' statements which wrote that a few neighbors were out and someone had late night visitors. As I continued to walk I became aware of colors; red brick, orange sandstone, lively evergreens, burnt umber bark, weathered gray windows, and soft blue shadows. That which appeared bland, sullen and dead in the midst of winter now displayed its vibrant colors next to the crisp cool white blanket. Anticipation towards the birth of spring began to form images on the canvas before me; smiling yellow daffodils, green coats of grass, hot pink tulips, and busy brown chipmunks.

Swatting at the overgrown branch knocking snow from its clasp, I allowed myself to feel like a child. My straight footstep trail began to weave leaving a gift for someone to find; the joy which had entered my step. I was able to witness the rising of bright blank window shades. And caught a glimpse of the dark male figure scratching tousled hair with one hand and stretching towards the heavens with the other. I was full; rich with a fresh view of a familiar walk.

Returning to our driveway, I wiped the snow from the Honda and shoveled a path to the back door. Once inside I immediately adjusted to the last minute preparations of going to church. Would you believe the remainder of my day was just as colorful and rich as this 15 minute walk? I had to teach myself to take a walk such as the one above. I had to learn to tune into my spiritual innermost voice and care for it; just as I would my physical body with food, exercise and rest.

I did not always have the skill of caring for my soul. I was not aware I needed to make a conscious effort to care until I was 18 and wanted to die. I know now that the one thing that kept me alive was remembering and trusting this innermost voice. A voice which had exclaimed only two years prior when a fellow student attempted suicide, "Why on earth would she want to kill herself? There is so much to live for!" But at 18, 'a successful high school graduate', 'promising young woman', and 'gifted athlete', I could not recall why I should want to live any longer.

As the days passed following graduation, my promising, successful, gifted life got darker and darker. I decided to leave the 'top ranked' college of my choice knowing I was in the wrong place. My parents met me with anger, silence and lack of understanding. My dreams vanished. My high school friends were scattered throughout the country. My boyfriend and I broke up. My grandmother died. My childhood friend had an abortion. My new friends did not know me. I did not know myself. I was lonely.

Classes at the local community college became a dreaded activity and I found myself driving unknown roads until hours would pass and I was supposed to be home. I felt as if I was withering away and as I drove I hoped an accident would end my life. I was much too afraid to attempt suicide, something quietly nagged me it was wrong. When I realized I had begun to lie to myself, that everything was okay, I became scared and approached my father without hesitation. I told him I was too frightened to end my life but that I wanted to die. I knew what I was feeling was not right but I had tried everything and I could not fix it as I always had been able in the past. I asked my father for help; it was the bravest thing I have ever done. It marked the beginning of my 'road to renewal.'

I feel as if I have spent the last ten years re-learning the skills I took for granted as a child. I had to learn how to strengthen the relationship I had with my innermost spiritual voice; the voice which at 16 exclaimed astonishment and disbelief. I had to make a conscious attempt to acquire the skills of caring for my soul; journaling, meditation, prayer, confrontation and retreat. I had to learn how to gather friends, near and far, who cheer and support the dreams, truth and beauty my inner voice has the courage to speak.

I attempt to place in my daily routine time to be present to my life; time to play, exercise and create. I know that the emergency medical attention I received to treat my clinical depression brought hope back into my life. But it is the conscious care of my spirit that keeps me alive.

Anne Sweetman is a member of the FAW Board of Directors from Eatontown NJ.