Today was a bit surreal. I feel a bit like I’m living someone else’s life.
Being back in New York after my mom’s stroke, even though just for the weekend, it’s hard to believe that this was my life for almost six years. It feels so foreign after nearly three months of being home with my mom. And yet, how easy it is to slip back into the swing of things.
I had one of those catch-your-breath moments this morning. I flew in during this massive snow storm, and so the city looked like a replica of a traditional skyline snow globe. And when my Uber emerged from the tunnel into downtown Manhattan, I actually cried.
Yes, friends. I was that girl. Crying in the back of a black towncar. You would have thought I had just gotten kicked off of The Bachelor.
There’s something about New York that really…it makes my spirit feel free. There’s this overwhelming air of possibility here. You can chase your wildest dreams. Be anyone you want to be. New York is where it happens. Conquer it, or it conquers you.
But for as enveloped in the literal snowy dream of Manhattan as I was, all day, I couldn’t help but keep thinking about my family back in Ohio. And I’ve honestly been so conflicted. Sitting here tonight, candles lit, glass of wine, looking out my window at the Empire State Building, and getting serenaded by sirens, my heart was wrestling with my mind.
I feel I am at a crossroads. New York pulls at my heart in ways that nowhere else can. It’s where I came into my own. Embraced who I am. And Whose I am. My best friends are here and so are my dreams. So are my possibilities.
And yet Ohio pulls at my heart in equally substantial ways. Ohio is family. Ohio is home. But Ohio is also pain. Significant remnants of a dark past that stirs up heartache and shame. And yet, also, healing salve that comes from helping foster healing in my mom’s recovery.
I’m here, and I miss Ohio. And in Ohio, I yearn for New York.
And frankly, I fear this is giving me gray hair.
And how can I even be considering not living in Ohio? To be honest, I feel guilty even entertaining the idea
And well, I’ve now officially cried twice today.
During all of this back and forth and round and round my mind has been doing, I paused for a minute and heard a song lyric that really hit me.
Pandora had been on in the background, and for the first time all night, I had actually listened to a lyric, and this was it:
“Are you hurting and broken within? Jesus is calling.”
And I kind of did a double take…Um, yes Lord. I am both of those things right now. Apparently You are calling right now…Consider this your “read receipt.”
My interest piqued, I decided to keep listening, and the very next song was called “My Revival.” It goes, “Jesus, You are my revival. Jesus on you I wait.”
You are my revival.
I instantly thought of my mom during her stroke recovery. She is literally in a period of revival: body, mind and spirit. Chills went down my back. But for some reason, I was prompted to look up “revival” in the dictionary.
And underneath the first definition that pertained to my mom: (“The improvement of condition”) was another definition that really struck a chord with me…
“An instance of something becoming important again. A comeback, reestablishment, reappearance, reintroduction.”
Could God be talking to me through Pandora!?
I’m not even being flip about that.
Jesus, on You I wait.
Coming back home would have so much fear attached to it. So many questions. Unknowns. Apprehensions.
I don’t know. I just. don’t. know.
I’m right back to where I started…on that dreadful merry-go-round of pros-and-cons, this’s-and-that’s.
Jesus on You I wait.
I don’t have to decide what to do tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that or that.
I just have to keep doing the next right thing and wait for Jesus.
Patience has never been my strong suit, but I do believe that I will know what to do. Jesus will gently guide me where I should be, and give my heart peace along the way.
Jesus, You are my revival. Jesus, on You I wait.
((Written last week in NYC))
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