Some days ago, while sorting through and organizing a pile of DVDs and videotapes, I came across “Field of Dreams,” one of my all-time favorite movies. Released in 1989, it stars Kevin Costner as the restless and regret-filled young Iowa farmer Ray Kinsella. He bulldozes his prime corn field, builds a lighted baseball field, and risks bankruptcy when he decides he can no longer ignore a mysterious voice out in the corn that whispers the promise, “If you build it, he will come.”

Supported by his delightfully quirky wife Annie (played by Amy Madigan), Ray embarks on an adventure that brings him in contact with remarkable people, both living and dead. There is Terrence Mann (James Earl Jones) the reclusive social activist who also hears the voice, as well as a slate of old-time ball players that includes Archie “Doc” Graham (Burt Lancaster) and “Shoeless Joe” Jackson (Ray Liotta).

I can be enticed to sit and watch “Field of Dreams” most any time, no matter what the demands of the day may be. I am moved down to my very core by each and every viewing.

My favorite scenes change from time to time, depending on what I am contemplating about my own life. But currently I am partial to the scene where Ray tries to persuade an elderly Doc Graham to come visit his Iowa ball field. The conversation begins as Doc reminisces about his one and only time at bat and what it was like to live with the disappointment of being cut after his first season as a young, professional ballplayer.

“We just don’t recognize the most significant events of our lives while they’re happening,” Doc comments, his voice trailing off into thought when he realizes that he might never have become a treasured family physician had he not experienced that significant disappointment in his youth.

Frustrated by such gentle acceptance, Ray’s voice fills with intensity and he asks Doc, “But don’t you think it’s a tragedy to get that close to your dream and not be able to touch it?”

Broken dreams and expectations. Disappointments. Goodness knows we all have them. And this week, I squarely faced such matters as I sat with two friends, both grieving from the sudden, unexpected, and tragic deaths of their children. Sitting beside them, hearing them give voice to their raw, untouchable pain, I thought of Ray Kinsella. Tragedy! Heartbreak! Complete and utter frustration! The concepts rebounded in my heart and pained my soul. How can this be? Why must this be? How are we to function, much less prosper, when we are drained and broken and anguished?

I hammered God with a volley of tough questions.

Then came one of those moments Doc talks about: One of those significant moments of insight and comfort with the potential to strengthen and empower when there is nothing of the sort I can personally provide. It came from a verse I long ago underlined in my Bible that is found in the book of Jeremiah. It is one of God’s most magnificent promises:

I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised.

I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out— plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.

God’s promises transcend EVERYTHING — including the pain, hardship, and suffering that is assuredly a part of our lifetime of experiences. And when we take these promises, applying them deeply into our souls, claiming them as our promises, and building them into the lives we are creating right here, right now —there will be some reason and justification, comfort and clarity to ALL we experience.

We will struggle. We will suffer to varying degrees. We will eventually die. But God’s dependable promise of a future filled with hope and spiritual prosperity allows us to step away from terror and onto a field of comfort and a blue sky to be filled with dreams.

Joan Bay Klope is a freelance writer and speaker who makes her home on Whidbey Island. Her award-winning column has run for 12 years in Western Washington newspapers. E-mail comments and speaking requests to FaithfulLiving@hotmail.com.