I had the greatest time in New York City at the end of September! I lived 33 miles from the “city that never sleeps” until I was six. I still have family in the area. Thus, I consider the northeast “the motherland.” I recall being with my father, who was very strong and capable, in Central Park years ago feeling vulnerable and a bit frightened from all the homeless people, trash and such. This time everything was clean, inviting, safe. Even the flowers and flora caught my attention.
We traversed all over that amazing island. We shopped in Harlem, sipped coffee in Rockefeller Center, and explored Times Square. We took photo ops at Lincoln Center and went to Broadway plays. It was beautiful, magnificent, and fun!
On our way to explore Radio City Music Hall, we crossed paths with a 6-foot-tall security guard with a bullet proof vest and a sandy blonde Labrador donning a harness. I chided him, “Is that your therapy dog?” Without the slightest emotion he responded, “He’s a bomb sniffing dog.” I told him I was just trying to get him to smile. That was about the depth of my intentions of being there, make New Yorkers smile and simply have a blast.
A few layers down, as often happens, deep things were stirring in my heart. I was observing more than this splendid city, people moving through intersections like capillaries pulsing through veins, ornate, towering buildings. I was becoming increasingly aware of the character of the other tourists.
We were invited, just a few weeks prior, to join a group of primarily septuagenarians. The mind numbing, teeth-rattling buzz of the fire alarm was our wake-up call on the first morning. There were jokes that day, but I never heard another complaint. That impressed me. In fact, to be with a group of upper middle-class Americans, there was a distinct lack of complaining or negativity of any kind. There was a fragrance of kindness about the entirety of the group. Except for Gary, that I teased nonstop about buying me a gift, especially when we were near Tiffany’s. He said, “I left it on your seat.” I never laid eyes on it! The men treated their wives well and the women were jovial and thoughtful.
Almost 3 years ago, my beautiful special needs daughter Carly, flew to heaven. Five months ago, my 26-year marriage was laid to rest. Circumstances of that magnitude foster true colors ascending to breach the surface. In the interim of break up to divorce I intentionally dispensed a great deal of energy toward three things: healing, forgiving, and keeping my heart tender. All those goals required supernatural guidance. It crossed my mind, more than once, a hard heart would surely be of great benefit in the short term. However, Kathryn and Janae had already experienced tremendous distress in having said goodbye to their baby sister. The last thing they needed was a bitter mom talking incessantly about you know who. So I fought those battles faithfully with much support from family and friends and must’ve accomplish some measure of victory as I have had more than one person comment, “You look radiant.” Still, a measure of cynicism crept in and settled unbeknownst to me. There were hidden questions, lurking in the recesses of my mind. Are there actually good men? Men that will truly appreciate their wives, love them?
On the last evening of our trip we had dinner in Little Italy. Adding to the festivities was the addition of my beautiful goddaughter, Christina, who lives in Manhattan. She met us by using the city blue bikes. The meal and conversations were amazing! The next day we visited the 911 Memorial. Sacred space emerged as I listened to the phone message of one woman telling her family goodbye. I was quiet and contemplative for several hours. Later, we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, tooled around Brooklyn for a bit, then boarded the bus for the airport.
The flight to Atlanta was nondescript except for all the joy flooding my heart. This vacation to the Big Apple exceeded every expectation!
As I approached the turnstile at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, I noticed that all our luggage had already been separated. I approached the bus, put it in the pile, and glanced to the left for a second. Somehow that momentary vision began to resonate. I had looked through the cargo bay and noted the mundane, ubiquitous orange-yellow glow of airport lights illuminating concrete parking buildings and roads. I spied the bus driver leaning in, with her southern twang, thanking helpers. Dead center, hunched over, and diligently loading all of our luggage were two of my fellow sojourners. There was beaded sweat accumulating on one of their foreheads. The position of their bodies obscured their identity.
The next day, on my path back to Jacksonville, I would contemplate this freeze frame image embedded in my spirit. These elderly men had impressed me for days in the generosity they shared with their spouses, but in the belly of the bus their servant hearts were undeniable. I cried when I realized their act of goodness was in real time dislodging my cynicism. Their service, a picture painting a thousand words of whispered healing in my mind. Yes, there are good men that love and appreciate their wives. They were doing what was ordinary for them, I’m sure, but to me it was like a shot of antibiotics, standard medical protocols four decades hence, that would kill a virus. I went on vacation to have fun and was returning home with more wholeness of spirit and mind.
Tomorrow is going to be a good day, and the day after that, and the day after that. I’ve been in a few tight spots these past few years. Many things have shifted and readjusted. Through it all I have never been alone. I’ve at times felt that I was on my own to sort things out, but in truth I have always been cared for, listened to, and guided. I’ve watched God’s immense creativity in divesting me from the past and readying me for the future. He has used interesting people, places, and circumstance to restore and renew my life. You might be in the middle of horrific circumstances. My best advice is this, take time to process and heal, but don’t stop looking forward. Remember, he who seeks finds! I believe with all of my heart: The Best Is Yet To Come!
Every single moment You are thinking of me! How precious and wonderful to consider that You cherish me constantly in Your every thought! O God, your desires toward me are more than the grains of sand on every shore! When I awake each morning, You’re still with me. Psalm 139:18, The Passion Translation
Broken but Beautiful 