Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage. . . . —Psalm 27:14 (ESV)
My friend Rick and I jogged through the park near his New York City apartment. Kate and I were staying with him on an East Coast trip. The kids were back home in California with my mom.
Maybe it was all the grown-up time we’d had on this trip. Maybe it was seeing old friends. Whatever it was, Kate and I ached for the city, where we’d lived for nearly six years. “Even Kate wonders whether we should have moved,” I said to Rick, who didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the first time I’d voiced this complaint.
I was about to launch into yet another complaint about the lack of good museums in Silicon Valley, when suddenly a memory struck me. Shortly after we moved to New York City during a torrid summer, Kate and I had taken the subway uptown to the Cloisters. My main memory of that visit was not the art but my dismay upon learning that the Cloisters was not air-conditioned. The humidity was killing me. I’d wondered what on earth we’d been thinking when we decided to move to New York, and yet God had met us there, giving us a rich and full life.
“It’ll take time for you guys to settle in,” said Rick as the Cloisters disappeared behind us. I glanced over my shoulder. I knew exactly what he meant.
