the big city dream was a joke

I've been in New York since Thursday afternoon. I can't begin to describe the emotions that come along with being in a city this big/small at the same time. Homelessness is so heavy, smiles are scarce, technology is a stumbling block-literally, trash is overflowing, a simple 'hello' is a dime a dozen, city noise can't be put into words, crossing the street is like swimming upstream, but most of all the people live life the best way they know how and running is half of that. It's really been a beautiful experience. 

Ive wanted to be here since I was 12. I use to sit on my computer and look up apartments, colleges, dream jobs and everything in between. When I was 14, I ended up deciding on Manhattan, being a magazine editor, no kids, didn't want to own a car, traveled by car and subway. Everything that city life seemed to involve I wanted it. It was a dream for a very long time, at 17 the job changed to band manager, but still live in New York nonetheless. Seeing New York has been on every bucket list I've written. 

Now I'm here. The first night of walking around I didn't know which way to look- so I looked everywhere. That's how the locals pick out the tourist, if they are looking up, they aren't from here. We walked down time square and I expected to be so excited because I was there. And what happens, I fight back tears because it's all too much. There are too many people, too many things, too many broken things. 

After looking at the buildings I find myself looking down now, looking at the ground only to find people asleep on all of their belongings. People who haven't showered. Who haven't had a home cooked meal in years. Who haven't heard someone say 'I love you'. Who haven't seen someone look at them like an equal.   So I find myself praying for them, as I walk by them. Of course there are the 'professionals' so I can't just stop and talk to each one I see and I can't give them money. So my next (bazaar) thought buy pretzels from the vendors and bottled water and hit the streets. Then I'm going to end up being the tourist who makes the paper for being a 'pretzel hero'-- mugged after running out free things to give out. 

I catch myself thinking these things often here. What would Jesus being doing? Would He be jamming Beatles tunes in Central Park, would He be dancing in Time Square, playing basketball, taking pictures? I know he'd be sitting down with the homeless people just listening to their stories because they have them. && then He would do something that each of us would never think of doing, He would hug them, pray for them and then tell them how beautiful they are. Then e would say three simple words that may not seem like a big deal and most of the time they are thrown around like daggers with no meaning. He would say 'I love you' but He would say it so beautifully & powerful that they believe it. And just like that they see their worth, they feel something they haven't felt in years. And they take that next step towards something bigger than the looks from the people who pass by daily. 

So to the people who do stop and talk to them, to the man I passed today with a dog, a backpack and a smile, to the man who held a sign that read 'family-hungry', I salute you. You are braver than I ever dreamt of being. 

And to the 16 year old Callie. I do not miss you. I've wondered what's made my mind change and then I have an overwhelming peace of knowing that those dreams were before I met Jesus. I use to want a dead end job, wearing heels and living in a high rise and now I want to live in the country, teach kiddos and surround myself by people who want and need love.  && just have the freedom to sit with the homeless lady because I can. 

              Funny how life works that way.