Two days ago we had five inches of snow, followed by hours and hours of driving rain. Overnight, it froze, leaving us with a horrible mess. The driveway is impassable by foot because it's thick ice. The snow has an inch crust of ice on it. It's bad if you go through, and it's worse if you don't because it is so slick.
When I took Tasha out for her afternoon walk yesterday, my plan was to bust through the ice and make a path for her to follow. She got excited, jumped on the crust and broke through. I didn't get into the woods before I decided to take her back, fearing she'd get cut. I put her inside and left a note for Steve, telling him I had gone into the woods by myself.
Once I got in there, I saw that the woodcutter had been through on the paths with his bulldozer and broken up the crust. It was a lovely little walk for me, though I picked my way very, very carefully, and used my walking stick. Though I didn't go up and over the hill like Tasha and I have been doing, I was out almost an hour.
Though Tasha had been inside all this time, as soon as Steve came home she insisted on going out. She not only came looking for me, this dog who is nearly deaf and has so-so eyesight spotted me almost immediately out in the woods. She worked her way along the crust--breaking through in places--until she reached me.
I took her home via the woodcutter's trail, keeping her safe.
Were only I so habituated to being with God that I would so wisely know where to seek Him out, and easily find Him!