My parks are anchored around water. The two I frequent have small ponds, always both burgeoning and patient. On a bench or standing on roots against a mammoth tree, I see in them the intricacies of life and came to know the quintessence of releasing a prayer to a merciful sanctum.
Some days my car took me to the Delaware River instead, to watch the planes take off and land south of the city and the ships chug along the ports. There I thought of grand ideas and wide futures. From those banks I rose and flew off to curious cities or sat quietly as a battle of this country’s revolution echoed on the hill. The wind pushed and grabbed me on that stony beach but I found my ballast in driftwood and heart-shaped pebbles.
My other river park is a bustling place of boat houses, sculpture gardens, playgrounds and shady picnic areas. On one end of the 4 mile loop, the park reaches toward Camden, once deemed the murder capital of the United States, now a hub in the local drug crisis, forever a wrenching reminder in this mother’s heart. From the walkway, all I can see of the troubled place is “Our Lady” spreading her arms above the local hospital and I pray with her. A grand hotel crowns the other end of the park, along with a surprising view of the Philadelphia skyline from a bridge.
As I write this I am granted a new perspective of my walk along this river. Camden, the city of so much death at one end and at the other, Cherry Hill, the place where I found my life again in the sweet anonymous circles of others’ experience, strength and hope. And God, like a current, His quenching radiance connecting it all.
The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are radiant, giving light to the eyes. Psalm 19:7-8
Meeting God at the Park 