What do cold-plunging cows, the Winter Olympics and National Parks have in common? You might be surprised.

Last Saturday, I was on a group bike ride in Jefferson County, a rural community east of Tallahassee. It’s a great place to ride because there are fewer cars and beautiful stretches of farmland, orchards and sprawling pastures. Fields of cows grazing lazily in the grass are a regular part of the scenery, like friendly neighbors who wave at you when you pass down the street.

But one group of cows we saw this past Saturday broke the familiar mold. After a long stretch of bitter cold winter weather, it was an unseasonably hot and humid morning. We cyclists were not acclimated for the summer-like conditions – and I guess the cows weren’t either.

Halfway into the ride, we spotted a herd of several dozen large black cows standing in the middle of a shallow pond. They weren’t moving or drinking (thank goodness, because I’m sure those heat-affected heifers were making their own generous contributions to the biological soup floating in that pond). They were just hanging out, half-submerged in the dark water, as if that’s what they always do on Saturday mornings. Except that they don’t.

It was such an odd thing to see – and so incongruent with our expectations for the grass-grazing cows we typically see on a bike ride – all we could do was laugh and wonder why. We couldn’t ask the cows themselves, so we assumed they were struggling in the heat too and figured out they could get relief by soaking their tummies in the cold water of the pond.

That tactic wouldn’t work in the heat of the summer, but on this day, because it was preceded by weeks of morning temperatures in the 30’s, the frigid water was the perfect solution.

Cold-plunging cows. Creatures making the most of the creation available to them. I felt a sense of awe at their wordless resourcefulness and just smiled and stared. Why did that scene make me feel so good?

Later that day, we watched highlights of the Winter Olympic from the past week. Seeing the skaters use the ice to perform impossible feats of strength and flexibility and watching the skiers defy gravity over and on top of the snow took my breath away. Although I was just a spectator of their mind-boggling courage and athleticism, my heart swelled with the same awe and wonder I felt watching those cold-plunging cows. Humans achieving incredible feats of excellence with the elements of nature available to them. Why did that make me happy?

The following day, we talked about taking a family trip to Yosemite National Park this summer. It’s been on my bucket list for years, along with about twenty other National Parks. (Yikes, I am running out of runway!) Thinking about the crowds and long lines we might encounter in Yosemite made me wonder why our National Parks hold such an appeal to so many people. What do those thousands of visitors every year hope to gain from spending time among mountains, glaciers, wildlife and waterfalls? This description of Yosemite from the National Park Service website provides a clue:

“Not just a great valley, but a shrine to human foresight, the strength of granite, the power of glaciers, the persistence of life, and the tranquility of the High Sierra.”

I think there must be something inside of us humans that longs to feel “right-sized”. To be so awed by the incomprehensible majesty of creation that we are forced to realize just how small we are in the grand scheme of life. Because maybe that realization forces us to see that some of the things we take so seriously aren’t really that important after all. And that’s a reason to smile.

I don’t need to travel across the country to be awed by the magnificence of creation. It can happen in a nearby cow field, in my family room, or pretty much anywhere I am willing to view the world around me with an open heart.

And that’s what cold-plunging cows, the Winter Olympics and National Parks have in common.

“The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;

where morning dawns, where evening fades,

you call forth songs of joy.”

(Psalm 65:8)