Something. Anything.

This morning on my walk to the subway (which turned into a walk to the bus) I prayed for God to show me beauty. For my eyes to be able to see something, anything in the world around me the spoke life. Something in the grayness and ugliness and bitter cold that made me happy to be alive. Some little thing that reminded me of the promise of Spring, of Love, of Beauty. Of a reason to not just go back to bed until mid-March.

I saw a silver and green tapestry in a shop window. I saw curly-qued balconies on each floor of an old brick walk-up apartment building. The dark black iron of the balconies and window-sills emerging from clay colored brick stood stark against the white snow. Snow which lingered in cracks and crevices and was stuck frozen, sliding down the pitched roof- slanting toward the sidewalk six stories below.

I saw antique jewelery in a shop window- broaches and earrings that clipped on and odd looking pieces like parrots and starfish and turtles. Jewelry that had a past. Jewelry that told a story.

I saw a wonderfully crafted dress featured in a boutique store window on Lexington. The bust was formed with meticulous detail from which the skirt below flowed flawlessly; it was cut on the bias. On the bust bits of pink and cream poked out from silver embellishments. The bottom of the dress was green that was almost black. It reminded me of a fancy pond in the middle of someones meditation garden; flesh colored petals floating atop the water side-by-side with lily pads.

I heard the couple behind me speaking French. The syllabals falling perfectly. The conversation soft and purposeful and forever pushing forward. Like a train passing by. Or the boom-click-boom-click-boom-click of high heels. Or a rushing river. Intoxicating.

I saw a white haired man help his wife across a mound of snow and ice 12" high. He held her hand as she cautiously stepped before climbing the steps of the bus. He stood on the sidewalk and waved to her after she found seat. His smile showing teeth.

Once on the bus myself, I heard a little girl, who was wearing a multi-colored, striped toboggan holler, "Abigail!, Abigail!" after she saw her classmate board the bus. She laughed. She was simply thrilled. She saw her six-year-old friend in an unexpected place and her toothless smile displayed her joy.

Things I'd rather be doing than sitting at work today:

When I looked out the widows of our apartment at 7:00 this morning and could see no buses, no taxi cabs and about six people (who were walking down the center of First Avenue, the only place to find traction in an otherwise 12-15" covered path) I decided to go ahead and be late to work.

Last night the other receptionist texted me, "Who decides if we're closed tomorrow and how will I find out?" I replied, "We will be open. See you then."

But, this morning, even though the New York City Dept. of Education was closed for the day (Chris was happy!) and even though there was 19" of snow recorded in Central Park, and even though from 32 stories above the city, it appeared pretty vacant, I knew I would be going to work.

Only after I had my still/ alone/ quiet time with God & a cup of coffee. Spent 1 1/2 hours at the gym downstairs (have I mentioned I LOVE my gym in my building!!!). Waited on bus service to resume--- about 9:15AM. Then I left. But buses were still not really running. So I walked .8 miles in 15-19" of snow. But once I stepped down into the pit of the 4/5/6 train on 86th Street-

All was working like a well oiled machine. Trains running, people few and far between, it was 9:45am: the perfect scenario. Think Dorthy in the Wizard of Oz when the she and the fella's are getting all dolled up to meet the wizard.

Ha ha ha
Ho ho ho
And a couple of tra la las
That's how we laugh the day away
In the merry old land of Oz

And I arrived to work at 10:00 on the dot. Just like I told my bosses I would when I emailed them this morning at 7:00. However, I was the only on who thought today was a bad weather day because the office was-a-bustlin'. Two meetings going on in two conference rooms with external guests. People-- at their desks. Messengers with packages, phones ringing.

And I'm thinking, "Do these people ever stop?" I know ALOT of people didn't go to work today, my commute was evident of that. There were seats available on the train, where usually I have to wait on two or three trains to pass. When the subway was pulling up as I rounded the corner down to the express train platform I literally muttered, "Sweet." Aloud.

So, instead of answering a few calls and eating my roasted Brussels sprouts at my desk I'd much rather be at home.

At home I could:

Watch Sherlock Holmes with my husband (who is home from school today)

Give myself a manicure- take off this Essie Chocolate Kisses (brown) color and perhaps go with Wavy Navy (deep blue) or keep it simple with Happily Ever After (soft pink)

Continue reading Bill Hybles, The Power of a Whisper or Mennonite in the Little Black Dress or the book I got from the library on Running for Women. I love the library. But I couldn't go there today. Because it's a government run. And it's closed today.

Do some laundry.

Make a pot of decaf.

Find a recipe & cook up some parsnips and eggplant- together, or not...

Do some yoga stretching.

Listen to my choir music since choir was canceled last night.

....

It's hard to be late or leave early or meander in when it's convenient when you're the receptionist.

No Snow Days! Boo!

Thirty is the new twenty-two

Thirty or forty years ago by the age of twenty-two you were settled. Really. Even when my own parents were twenty-two they had a house and a car and a couple kids and jobs and a Big Red bow on their white picket fence that went around their perfectly manicured front yard.

Okay, maybe not, but a twenty-two year old had a profession. They were rooted and living life somewhere permanent with a list of goals to strive for and achievements accomplished. And not that I'm not one of the greatest To Do List makers, I don't think it's what God really wants from me.

I'm thirty and don't own a car or a house or a piece of property or even a dog for crying out loud. The world has become smaller, and opportunities more obtainable. We can travel, visit other countries, take vacations to far away places. We experience more of the world than our parents, just as they did more than their parents, etc. etc. We truly live in a global community. And we don't want to settle down or stay anywhere too long because there is an entire world to explore. We are more independent, smarter, braver & skeptical. And in NYC this is amplified- everyone's young, single, without children or family or "home." And you can't survive without home- without a place to rest and be yourself.

And while I do have a home here, a community of people that I need, I'm afraid that I want more than belonging. Acceptance and feeling a part of something larger than myself are wonderful things- but I'm longing to step into next layer of maturity. Something that is individualized and fits tightly. I want to grow up, to feel like a grown up, I guess. So, when does that happen?

I guess I always thought that to be fully mature (defined as: having completed natural growth and development) I would need a demanding job, or enough money, or a child of my own- but that is not it. It's putting aside childish ways and living an emotionally healthy life. Realizing that humility brings wisdom. That listening is more important than talking. That I'll never figure life out. And in this life- completion will never be reached.

Growing hurts. And what really goes on inside that bright green cocoon with it's gold little zipper- no one really knows. But we are promised that on the other side something beautiful will emerge.