its a mad mission

I’ve often tried to explain what my job entails. Now, I can just send people this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhnV21sL9UI

Thanks to Lib Ramos for the link.

It’s a cool, quiet morning here in my Broome Street apartment, warm and bustling everywhere else. I’ve been out to the farmer’s market and picked up some lavender and basil plants and yellow squash. After a stop at the Rite Aid (since many of the grocery stores around here are too small to bother duplicating stock of what you can find at a pharmacy), and the bank, I returned home to my favorite refuge: our living/dining room. It’s one part Bombay, one part Salvation Army, one part greenhouse.

And I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be this morning. I’ve got a list of things to do today (yes, Liz, I will get to designing your wedding invitation this afternoon!), but right now, I’m taking pictures and writing. I’m going to my happy place.

This first friend is Opie, distant cousin to the Chia pets of yore. He comes from China via the Christmas Tree Shops, and sports an afro of newly planted Basil hair.

The second group of plants I call The Gossips. One is rotund, one short, one tall and lanky. They sit on the ledge overlooking the fire escape all day, commenting on the parishioners going in and out of St. Stanislaw  church below. Oh, the stories they tell.

There are more plants on the other window sill and the kitchen table, and all seem to be thriving, despite a few lapses in watering and the fact they don’t get a lot of sun. They make the most of it though, reaching their leaves toward the glass in order to eke out the most light they can.

I’ve been reading through a book Missy Gray gave to me, “A Blossom in the Desert: Reflections of Faith in the Art and Writings of Lillias Trotter.” She was a missionary to Algeria and Northern Africa, who also happened to be a brilliant painter and writer. Get this book. I’m serious. Especially if you are a woman. Here’s the page I’m open to in my lap:

***

Daisies Talking

The daisies have been talking again–the girls brought them in a clump the other day from their Saturday afternoon hours in the country. Somewhere long ago I saw that the reason they spread out their leaves flat on the ground–so flat that the scythe does not touch them–is because the flowers stretch out their little hands, as it were, to keep back the blades of grass that would shut out the sunlight. They speak so of the need of deliberately holding back everything that would crowd our souls and stifle the freedom of God’s light and air.

***

I hope this blog is a bit like her journals: pictures and writing that reflect God’s work in the ordinary and miraculous.

Just when you begin to forget that you have, indeed, moved to a city, the city reminds you.

It was 3:00 in the afternoon, and I’d gotten out of work early one day last week. I was about to step onto my connecting train when I felt a hand on my neck. As I turned to look, the hand–which was attached to a plaid sleeve–ripped off my locket necklace. I whipped around to face the occupant of the plaid shirt and screamed, “Give me back my necklace!” He looked at me all tough-like and said, “What?”, trying to pretend it wasn’t him.

That was all I needed. I lunged at him and he took off. I chased him screaming “Give it back!” all the way to a deserted part of the platform, and then decided the locket wasn’t worth my ending up on the tracks.

“It’s only worth $3!” I fumed. “Hope you’re happy.”

I sure wasn’t. I stomped back to the train, past all the men who had NOT helped, and got on just before it pulled away. One lady expressed anger at the thief, but she was a soloist without backup.

So now I’ve got no locket and a bit of street cred. That, and a slightly irrational fear of plaid shirts.

But seriously, I noticed that the little blister of anger in my spirit toward humanity has turned into a callous. And I think that scares me more.

There is a way cool phenomena called “Manhattanhenge,” that takes place around this time of year. Get the background here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattanhenge
Kelsey and I were waiting for the Bryant Park outdoor movie to start after sunset, so we went for a walk in Time Square. Even though the day wasn’t technically the Manhattan Solstice, it was close enough that we pretty much got the full Manhattanhenge experience. Words fall short. It was like a fireball had burnt a valley into the skyscrapers, turning buildings and humans orange in its glow.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tags/manhattanhenge/