Last night I was feeling a bit,
snarky.A long week, a long day of work, and I was weary.
Steve and I were in the subway, on our way to catch a show of our friend Megan in Gotham City Improv. I glanced down the subway car and was confused by what I encountered.
What was this motley crew?
The people who were surely too young to look so worn,
The garish, painted red lips of the elderly woman with swollen ankles,
The angry stare of the young man sprawled over three seats, daring anyone to ask him to move,
The universal language of Cuss, the only words I could understand in the staccato speech of the Russian man standing in the aisle.
Where was my beautiful city?
The vibrant diversity, the inherent energy that I often feel among the crowds? Where was the model on her way to a photo shoot? The beatnik lost in his thoughts? The business woman in $400 shoes? The mother and children on their way home to the Bronx? The music of a dozen different languages?
It took me a moment to realize: It's not them; it's me,
my snarky self coloring the view of the people that swirled around me.
A moment more, and I was thanking God for seeing us
perfect and pure,
exactly as we should be
because of what Christ did for us.