On being still.

NYC transit. 

That's all I have to write.

Just kidding. But seriously, if you have ever taken a train in NYC you KNOW that there is no shortage of stories to be told from experience. I have been here a little under two months and I cannot even begin to write about everything that I have witnessed. It's an adventure and I'm grateful for every part of it.

Sometimes I just see things that are inspirational. People being generous and kind. And that is no small feat here in the concrete jungle. It's difficult to be compassionate here, with so many people and so many ways to stay irritated. I will be the first to admit that my patience is lower than usual, just from the sheer influx of bodies in my general space. I am not used to that. I don't like to be touched. How ironic that I moved to one of the most highly populated cities in the nation, where I have the privilege of being involuntarily smashed up against by my neighbor daily, for better or for worse. Usually for worse.

Nonetheless, I have learned to look for goodness where goodness may be found. Yesterday, I saw a mom holding her toddler on the train. He was too young to walk, but old enough to stand with her help. She was letting him bounce up and down on the ground as the train moved from stop to stop, lovingly keeping him stabilized so that he didn't fall over. Eventually, he started to squirm. He did NOT enjoy the fact that he was confined to that one space, literally on lock down so that he could do nothing but stand and jump. And no matter how he tried to convince his mom to let him go or how hard he fought to get away from her, she would not budge. And he hated it. He flailed. He screamed. He did everything he could to try to acquire his freedom, and his mom didn't even get mad. She just kept holding him, kept waiting, kept gazing at him with concern and pure adoration. She sympathized with his plea, but refused to give him what he wanted because she knew it would be harmful. Toddlers on the train will go flying if not properly monitored. She knew this. I knew this. He didn't. 

And so he fought the air. 

I do this often. I look at my life and scream MORE, desperately grasping for that which I do not have. Usually (and lately) it's control. I am a control freak. I didn't know it was as bad as it was, well until I lacked it that is. And I lack it so painfully here. I want to run forward towards my dreams. To take hold of the victory now, to see things happen in a second and right before my eyes. I had a very strong idea of what my life would look like here. I dreamed it up for seven years, after all. I was displeased that God did not deem it necessary to give me everything that I wanted after working so hard to get to this place. I pay astonishingly little attention to what I need or what will keep me safe or what is beneficial to others. So in a whirlwind of panic I fight the air with everything I have, trying my hardest to escape the feeling of being uncomfortable by whatever means necessary. 

And God is there through it all. Holding me tight around the waist with patience and probably great amusement. Whispering in my ear to be still while I respond with a resounding I CAN NOT DO THAT. Being still is hard. Waiting is hard. T.C. Upham says it beautifully:

“The disposition. . . to leave the dearest objects of our hearts in the sublime keeping of the general and unspecific belief that God is now answering our prayers in His own time and way, and in the best manner, involves a process of inward crucifixion which is obviously unfavorable to the growth and even the existence of the life of self.“

Inward crucifixion. That means it's not easy, but actually quite painful. Waiting is painful. It's uncomfortable. We don't know what to believe or how to think about our situation. So we fight the air. We fight God. 

And in doing so, we miss out on what he is doing right now. Where he is trying to take us. We are convinced we can find our way to silver, when all along he has been leading us to gold. He is trying to keep us safe, but we don't want his safety--we want immediate satisfaction. 

Be where you are. Stand still and let the chaos continue around you. There will always be confusion in this world. But there is constancy that comes from acknowledging the one who knows the plans he has for you. 

Don't fight that. Hold on to it desperately. Because sometimes, it is within our stillness that we find our strength. And we never would have had access to it lest we had waited to hear the quiet, courageous voice that was leading us all along.