As the weather turned colder and fewer and fewer people came out to walk, my passion for the park only grew. As a rule, I have never liked winter. I rarely go out in bitter weather. My jaws chatter and I gripe exceedingly when I am cold. This fall and winter, however, I loved every step, wandering through the unveiled woods and tiptoeing on frozen ponds to watch turtles sleep under the ice.
I think it was during these cold barren months that my relationship with God rooted deeply. It felt like me and Him and no one else, save the few other creatures who held on too—the lone cardinal where the path curves, the small flock of geese who decided to stay, and all the other little ones who left their tracks in the snow, then disappeared to their warm shelters and holes. The deer froze and fixed their eyes on me, blending in with the stark woods. Then—one, two, three—they would leap away, leaving me refreshed with a peace from Heaven itself.
Suddenly a park worker would drive by in her motorized cart with that terrible exhaust and I would fume. She was working her job, after all, and I had the nerve to be bothered. God showed me my pettiness, how easily I could be ruffled. I was walking in a wonderland with the Creator of the universe–and demanding more? I must never be bothered. I am with God. He is with me. That is all.
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him. Psalm 34:8
Meeting God at the Park 