Walking back to the hotel, I’d stayed in step with the New York pedestrians. My quick strides took me too far, and I realized that I had missed the street for my hotel. As I assessed where I was, music beckoned me from the middle of the block.
Hypnotized by the melody, I walked slowly toward the Gothic exterior that was sandwiched in-between two buildings. I stepped inside the cathedral. People peppered the pews, heads down in prayer.
The world outside toiled and labored, but inside time ceased.
Weariness comes when striving outperforms being.
I slipped into a pew, exhaled, and whispered thankful prayers.
My heartbeat slowed. Peace enveloped me.
Why do I allow fast-paced, when my soul longs to abide?
And how come I choose the finite above Everlasting?
I sent requests heaven bound as the organ bellowed through pipes. I made promises to find sanctuary within my day—vowing to find quiet spaces.
A text from David interrupted my prayers. “Where are you Smith?”
I inhaled Holiness for a moment longer and then arose with a new purpose; I will let life breathe.
Even if that means taking moments to thank Him in the Cathedral of my heart.