Notes From Toah Nipi #4 (on quiet time)

today i felt the closest to God that i've ever felt in my life.

standing there, in the cold and the snow and the ice, staring out at the lake with arms outstretched and tears rolling down my face freely, i tangibly felt Him, like He was hugging me perhaps.  think of it: the Creator of the universe, the Grand Orchestrator of all things, embracing me, His lowly and helpless child.  it was a moment so intense, so overwhelming and yet so necessary.  in it i experienced the pleasantness of warmth in the midst of winter cold, saw glimmers of His Presence in everything around me, and felt a wave of emotion so great that crying and whispering words of love to Him seemed like the only appropriate response.

i found "Hosanna" by Hillsong on my iPod and put it on repeat.  and as it began to play i could almost feel Him telling me to sink to my knees, to close my eyes and just sing to Him for a little while.  so i did.  and even though the ground where i knelt was cold and uncomfortable, i didn't mind.  what i really wanted was to stay there forever.

a sweet sound...

(Now Playing: "Time after Time" -- Myron Butler & Levi)

Usually I'm not a fan of Christian/gospel remakes of secular songs, but this one is...different somehow.  I just feel Him close to me, reassuring me, comforting me, loving me unconditionally as the song keeps playing.

i'll never understand why we do stuff like this

i took my finger
placed it against my skin
and began to pick
aimlessly
at this old scab
as if expecting
not to feel
even an inkling
of the pain it
so visibly represents

a brief reflection

i realized something while i was waiting on the subway to get back to campus today: sometimes God uses complete strangers to tell us exactly what we need to hear.
three very recent examples of this in my life:

• wednesday afternoon: the homeless guy who told me to cheer up (see previous post)
• saturday evening, after the MCAT: the med school student who told me i shouldn't let anyone deter me from medical school
• this afternoon, waiting for the subway: the guy who told me i was beautiful (he was obviously making a pass, but in retrospect i really needed a compliment right then)

conversations with strangers mama told me not to talk to

there are always interesting people out in harvard square, asking for money.  some share special talents with passersby; others wear brightly colored vests and give speeches about saving children or the environment; many feign homelessness while others actually have no home.

walking from winthrop house into the square, i see people like this all the time.  during the day there's always at least one man standing outside of CVS, shaking a paper cup so the coins inside make music.  occasionally i'll contribute the change i just received from my latest quest for (un)necessary items.  regardless of whether i open my wallet to those keeping watch by the door, i always try to speak to them if they ask me for money, to tell them "Sorry, I don't have anything today" or maybe just "Take care."  A friend of mine once told me that ignoring these people,  homeless or not, is akin to treating them as less than human.  because of this i've tried to avoid that silent cruelty by saying at least a few words as i pass.  when i do this, the people will sometimes respond, as if they're grateful for that brief exchange.

today, i was on my way to buy books for a class.  i passed by a man sitting on a crate outside 7-11, asking people to spare a quarter.  when i walked by him, i apologized for not having any change, as i usually do.

what happened next was interesting.  with the heartwarming honesty of a child, he said, "Have a nice day.  Cheer up, everything will be fine."  i'm not sure if i was frowning as i spoke to him, or if anything about my disposition at that moment implied a need for encouragement, and from a total stranger at that.  in any case, the words were said.  and i thought to myself, "this man is sitting out here in the cold, begging for change and getting ignored by most of the people he sees.  and yet he tells me that everything is going to be all right."  in that moment i almost felt that i should repay his kindness somehow...but i didn't know how.  for some reason a couple of quarters out of my wallet didn't seem like the right thing to give him in return.

if i ever see him outside 7-11 again (and i probably will, though i may not remember his face too well), maybe i should have a real conversation with him.  it's nothing compared to a blanket to drape around his shoulders, but it could probably keep him warm for a while.