City Life

The things I hate about the city are the things I love. Living like sardines means you can't stretch your arms out without knocking a few people in the face; it also means you're not alone. Public transportation is slow and time-consuming; I have time to read during my commute. Just about everything is ridiculously expensive; the variety of restaurants, entertainment, and free festivals/concerts is the best in any city I've been. Running around town means you inevitably cross paths with people–some seem a curse and some are a blessing.

David and I went out for a jog this past Saturday and about 5 minutes into our run we passed a group of boys (hoodlums) and one of them thought it would be amusing to make a derogatory comment about my body. David immediately stopped, pummeled the kid and his friends and we left them there a bloody mess on the sidewalk and continued our run.

Wrong. We both turned around and looked at the kid in shock and anger and he was nasty once again, "Turn around, I'm not talkin' to you." We kept running but I think David's head was going to pop off. I was sure I didn't care, but continued to get angry at all of the stupidity–that kid included–that we encounter ALL the time here. The nasty bus drivers, short-fused common citizen drivers, living with people on top of us, standing in smoke clouds waiting for the bus, free opinions, dirty streets, trash, a dead woodpecker on the sidewalk, leering men, needing a property removal pass to take my microwave home from work, someone's BO-reeking armpit in my face as I ride home on the train... and then WHACK! I ran straight face first into a low-hanging tree branch. God hit me with a switch.

Stopped for a minute I sobbed and let it all out–how easily angered I've become since we moved here. Where is my compassion? Where are the duck feathers that used to let all offenses roll off my back like drops of water? I think they got ruffled in the first month we lived here and now I'm walking around with exposed mangy skin... Piled one on top of another these things start to wear on a girl.

It takes more prayer and more repentance than ever for me to walk rightly with God. This place is so difficult. But I realize it's difficult because it's real. People live in this city in such close proximity that everything each one does has an almost immediate, direct effect on another human being. In a way, our words and actions are magnified. How much more should I concentrate on walking with Christ in a place where I will be sure to interact with people who need him? The only way I can live without constant irritation (which, boiled down, is simply pride) is to step aside and allow Christ to become the fulfillment of my personality. If I will allow God to come in and change my perspective on the frustrating things, He will be glorified in my life. And isn't that the one simple goal?

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. Galatians 2:20

David and I finished a little over 5 miles that day, and took a long walk back to our house. On the way back we saw our 78-year-old neighbor, Julian, walking toward us with coat, hat, and cane in hand. We've met several times before, but he didn't remember. He was confused and lost and wanted to get back home. As the three of us walked we had to assure him several times that we hadn't passed his house, and that we lived next door to him. He talked about his former job as a city employee, his three grown sons, and his journey from the Ukraine to the US when he fled communism as a young man.

David and I enjoyed this slow walk back home with Julian. Maybe it was the endorphin rush, or maybe it was our friend's calming conversation, but the frustrations from earlier in the day began to diminish in importance. We realized, looking at this man's wrinkled face and weathered hands, that our time here is short. We must make the most of every opportunity and live with purpose while we're here. As Julian reminisced he looked up at us with clear blue eyes and said in a thick Ukrainian accent, "Life–life is beautiful."