the line.

I walk on a fine line in this city. I walk on one that divides my emotions somewhere between enamored and frustrated. These streets can do it to you. If nowhere else in the world can do it, New York City can.
  I travel home and with each step I notice the concrete sidewalk sparkling. It could have been the unique way that sunlight refracts off of the glass buildings here. I saw it shimmer like the glitter on the floor of a New Year's celebration. To my left, Bryant Park sits taking up a block of real estate and serving as a trace of nature among the crowds of 42nd street. Men, young and old, gather around the cafe in the park to learn the art of chess. They created an amateur-friendly place where even the freshest beginner can practice his growing passion. In a month or two, the green lawn, where the Thursday yoga classes just finished, will become a sheet of ice. City-dwellers and visitors will flock to the already crowded area to experience the holidays on an ice-skating rink. I am not excluded from the group of individuals that has dreamed of doing just that. I walk a bit further and the retail chain continues. Corporations, along with "mom and pops," border each block.

  It is all right there; the richest CEO and the homeless man juxtaposed on the corner of the street. Normalcy prevents the homeless from even approaching the black suit and tie. I am sure that feelings of inferiority and failure surface when that moment comes. They beg. Everywhere, they ask for means to ride the subway or voice their need of food. I guess it is hard to know what is helping. Does ignoring the problem make a difference? Does appeasing and supplying an apparent need help? These are thoughts that I tend to struggle with.
  Overwhelming is a good description. It is all encompassing and consuming. Sheer number alone, of people, places, sights, shows and opportunity galore covers each block. It is that time when school work is piled high and the most I get out is for riding the Subway to school or an early run to East River Park. I would recommend that run. The other morning the air was brisk and it carried me through the dimly lit streets. There will be more time. My loved ones keep telling me that it takes time. I am starting to believe them. Quite possibly, I expect too much of myself. It is one of those notions that is acknowledged but not always addressed. That too is a learning curve.
  We all need grace, even if it is giving it to ourselves. My sweet love reminded me today that I have never done this before. By "this" he meant moving to another state, taking on a very rigorous school load, working in a new environment, making new friends, living with roommates, and the list continues to encompass a few other things. It is a big step.
  I am pretty confident that I can do it. Maybe if someone asks me how I like the city in December I will reply with joy and a smile. I am working up to it. Don't be afraid to do big things. Don't be afraid to follow the Lord. Don't be afraid to not have it all together. That's all.

Currently Listening: "Hoquiam" by Damien Jurado

adventure.

  "The good writers are the ones that take the time to write every day," she says. We were wrapped up in discussing memoirs we read for class that day and those words continued to ring in my ears. Every day. I presume that it makes no difference if it is a well thought out piece of prose, or just the observation of what is around me. Writing does not seem like the type of art that you need to practice. Most of us place it into the category of being "gifted." The more I think about the words my teacher spoke that day, the more I agree with the proposition. Life is in no way mundane. I recently moved to New York City.. My days are full of new experiences and surprises. In hopes of becoming stronger in my writing, the challenge ensues. 

  What was meant to be a subway ride to the end of a transitional tunnel where the trains turn around turned out to be a happenstance wandering into Little Italy. It just so happened that a festival was going on and every street and restaurant in the sector were displaying their pride. Banners were displayed across streets. Street carts full of goodies lined the avenues and perked our interest enough to purchase a cannoli. We meandered along taking in all of the decoration, excited that our venture lead us into this part of the city. It was different there. Out of all the places in the city I have been, Little Italy felt the safest. It could be attributed to the family-friendly atmosphere that most Italians carry. It also could be the fact that I am finally settling into this place. No, not yet will I say that it is home, but I will gladly concede that it is feeling more like it. Something as simple as remembering where a subway station is, or taking the right train home, builds confidence in this way of life. 

  Could I be a city girl? I am not sure if I can leave my Southern roots back in the peach state and I doubt Southern charm ever hurt anyone.

Currently Listening: "England" by The National

i live here.

 It is no longer something talked about across the dinner table. It has left the category of a prospect and has shifted to reality. I live in New York City. I hear the sounds of sirens down on 34th while I am trying to fall asleep. I wake up to two roommates milling about in our quaint apartment. Personal space has been reduced to my person and that includes being on the streets of Manhattan.
  The question that often comes to mind when speaking to new classmates is, "Did you ever think you would end up in New York City?" I presume it surfaces due to the fact that I scarcely thought of this city, apart from a visit at Christmas time, as a place to call home. Home is more of a sacred term these days. Not to say that the city lacks charm, in many ways I enjoy it. There is just something about those people you love. Without even speaking you are confident of the way they value you. I know full well I am supported. Support just tends to come in the form of phone calls and skype sessions as opposed to hugs and the physical presence.
  In a city stuffed with millions of people from every walk of life, it amazes me how lonely one can feel.  Tears have flooded and fallen from my eyes more than once in this past week. In some moments I have verbally asked myself, "What am I doing here?" It is about an eternal perspective. It is about learning what it is like to trust the Lord when my bank account looks the way it does. If for nothing other than becoming a stronger woman of God, it would be enough.
  I made the mistake of asking the Lord to "do big things" in my life. That is a silly statement. Walking with the Lord for a while now, I know that asking the Lord for big things merely gives Him the opportunity to show His faithfulness to His children in a unique way. Apparently, not everyone in New York City is living by faith, believing the Lord to provide for his or her schooling; it just so happens to be the path I am traversing. If I believe that my God is the "God of the impossible," then I can continue to trust that not one thing I step into is too much for Him to handle. It's a journey, a precious one that can be robbed of its pleasure if we aren't careful.

Currently Listening: "England" by The National

two days.

  It is all too surreal. This feeling of wandering between two homes I assume will become a familiar one. Friends and loved ones shall remain here as I whisk off to the northern part of the country for my first step of a grand adventure. Without any clue as to what the Lord might be up to apart from attending an upstanding, business-casual wearing college in the heart of the financial district in New York City, I will move. The last days are filled with confused emotions accompanied by intermittent high's and low's. In speaking with veteran travelers, this seems to be normal. The funny thing is that normalcy is exactly what this is not. Packing all of my belongings to set out on my own is quite contrary to the life I have meandered these past nineteen years. If I had foreshadowed the volume involved in my packing,  I might have adjusted my spending in recent years.
  Pile on the logistics coupled with emotion coming from selling my very first car I bought only five short months ago. I find yet another area for myself to release control and believe that the One that holds me in the palm of His hand knows my needs. Craigslist is uncharted territory along with any idea on how to sell a car. Pressure for funds and more emotion in tow, I remember that all I can do is keep walking. "All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided." Words from hymns robotically sung on Sunday mornings cover my heart.
  Set aside the forming my belongings into tetris pieces sorted into boxes and phones calls and emails coming in concerning my car, compared to relationships those are simple. There is not enough time. Even in the best attempts to budget and shuffle, I come up in the red. No, forever is not to be forfeited, but feeling disappointment is difficult to bare. I am confident that the closest people love me. I do not question the support they give to me. Maybe the trick is getting better at this in time. Frankly, the more I reason and say that the packing will require less brain power and I won't have to dole out as many funds to things I will "need," I cannot believe that saying goodbye to any loved one for an extended season becomes automatic.
  Take my thoughts or leave them. Throughout this season I trust that may more will flow.

Currently Listening: The last quiet sounds of nights in the suburbs.

a cycle.

  It is an inevitable cycle of today's worries passing into tomorrow's unknowns. Our energy is funneled into an emotional state of what could be and we, not purposefully, shut ourselves down. In most cases it is do to the inability to deal with the weight of uncertainty. We don't have to suffer below this gravity. I more often than not forget that I possess the power that conquered the grave within me. I have received a power that healed sickness, faced temptation and chose life, and carried the weight of sin so that I would not have to. I have been blessed on numerous accounts throughout my life. In a moment of heightened fear, I suddenly forget the truth that I have been taken care of. I always have what I need.
  I am learning. Nine days.

Currently Listening: "The Ballad of Love and Hate" by The Avett Brothers

impossible.

the city.

  The trip began with a stark contrast of fantasy and reality. As with most experiences, there is a built up expectation or belief of what will occur or be seen. Without even realizing it, in our minds we create an experience along with every feeling, smell and thought. To an even greater extent, we conjure up the people we should encounter and possibly the thoughts we will have. In my journey I found many of my thoughts to be disproved.

  My first steps in the big apple were greeted by heat and a constant flow of people. It seems that the Atlanta heat followed us North. It just so happened that we encountered record high heat this summer, the few days we were in the city. Contrary to popular belief, when stepping onto the streets of Manhattan, The Cranberries do not begin singing, "Dreams" in fall weather. No, to be honest, when looking at eye level the city is nothing special. People rush by you going both ways and we learned the hard way that figuring out the direction we should be going is best when standing outside the line of motion. Navigation is key when living amongst natives. Not many have a minute to spare helping out lost tourists, or prospective "home away from home-ers." Growing up in Paris, Jason was able to catch onto the inner workings of the subway and map of Manhattan. It was an experience like no other starting our first subway ride from Grand Central station. Some places just have that charm that causes you to stop where you are and take it all in.

  When one gets past the odor that rises from stagnant puddles on street corners and characters wearing an array of styles, you begin to develop a sweet spot for largest city in the states. I think the city changed for me when I saw it light up from the top of the empire state building after dusk. The beauty of a city is much different from that of the country, or more specifically suburbia. It is the architecture and well developed grid that amazed me. It all works. Everything from the tallest buildings to the acres of preserved foliage in the middle of a concrete jungle make the unique atmosphere that is called NYC.  

  Just a few steps into Central Park lowered the volume on the sounds of the city. The further we walked into the park, the less I could tell that I was still in the middle of a city. We sat on the grass and enjoyed a bagged lunch from Pret A Manger. Around us people were exercising, napping, and carrying on with their lives. This was normalcy. New York slowly became less daunting. A large section of the park is reserved for quiet relaxation. They refer to it as the Sheep's Meadow and restrict loud music or any organized play. Artists sat on their cots waiting for the peaked interest of a tourist to bring them some work. 

  We drank some of the best coffee and walked down some of the sweetest streets. Locals told us of their favorite spots and with the little time we had, our best efforts took us to Stumptown Coffee to enjoy some espresso. We dined at Lime Jungle with a couple of Jason's newlywed friends and tried some frozen yogurt from Pinkberry. No first trip to the city would be complete without food from a street vendor, so hot dogs and falafels were in tow soon after getting off of the bus the first day. 

  The last day we were in the city, I found the place I would love to live. An area in southwest Manhattan beginning near 16th street is called Chelsea. The buildings were much shorter, encompassing small apartments above mom and pop pizzerias and shops. Flower vendors were coupled on certain streets and the pace seemed to slow down. Instead of a few hundred people passing each minute, the number decreased to near twenty and we moseyed down the broken pavement. An older woman passed us on her way to work, dressed nicely in her business attire while riding her scooter to hasten her pace. Mom and I realized that most ladies had on flats or even tennis shoes with their skirts and dresses, saving their feet from the habitual walking that fills each day. We found Chelsea market and I believe that my heart swooned. A home of pretty things and coffee tends to welcome me warmly. I had thoughts of taking the subway there in winter months to warm my hands and heart on bitterly cold days. 

  "Free" was the name of the game. We tried to find the things we could do without spending a fortune. Someone mentioned the Staten Island Ferry to us and I am so glad they did. The subway took us down into the financial district and let us out at the Ground Zero memorial sight. Not without a detour, we found the ferry and floated across the river with others on their way home from work to catch a glimpse of the skyline and Lady Liberty. The statue sat right off the coast and welcomed all of the foreigners looking for a fresh start and new life. We remember the refuge we were and continue to be because of her. The ferry is a method of public transportation in New York. So as we used it to see a different part of the city, others rested their feet and eyes for the twenty minute ride. 

  It is a beautiful city. In a few short weeks I will call it home. Hopefully it will feel as though it is. I am not scared. Getting some time to be there made me settle into the idea of such a big move. It is an adventure. There will be much adjustment and a learning curve on how to live in a city. I have already seen the provision and the doors open for me to boldly walk into this season. My heart is preparing, but though it is, there will be hard moments, I am sure. 

Currently Listening: "Fever Dream" by Iron & Wine