I left for work early because the humidity factor was supposed to feel like 101 degrees today. Therefore, after working nine hours straight, I left at 5:00. Now, normally I leave around 4:30 or 6:00, depending on if I have last minute requests (working with 7 people is a bit difficult to juggle). So, I did not realize that half the city leaves at just that time.

It took five trains, being just three steps from a door, before I was able to get on the first train. I actually only passed through the doors because someone shoved me quite hard from behind. I missed the second train connection by a step or two and had to wait for two green ones before another yellow one arrived. There we yellow riders were, all poised on the platform to rush on board, not daring to look each other in the eye lest we grow weak in our determination to put ourselves first in the rush to complete our hot, sweaty, sardine-like commute.

I made it on board, snagged the last seat, and tried to avoid looking at my fellow commuters who were crammed in the aisles and pressed against the glass partitions. Two stops later was the largest station on my journey home, and while I would not have imagined that it could have been possible, I watched even more people shove their way on board. I almost felt guilty for having a relatively roomy seat.

Standing on that first platform, waiting in the crush of humanity to slip on the train, it reminded me of when B and I were in Rome and riding the metro train there. Italians had no qualms about forcing their way on board. It didn't matter if you were lifted off your feet in the wave of riders intent on getting to their destination. It was up to you to survive, to actually shove back. I loved the rides and feared them, clutching B's backpack rather tightly so that I might not be separated from her. The time we shared on that trip, though filled with some ups and downs, is still so precious to me. I guess I was smiling, because this woman who had missed a few trains with me and was quite frustrated me asked me what so funny about our situation. I explained about Italy and that in comparison, the gentle pushing was not all that bad.

Of course, my guilt over my fellow passengers didn't last past the moment my head fell against the window as I drifted off to sleep. I still tired so easily and think of little else but sleep once I arrive home. I know that I am getting stronger, even if I am fainting still. I know that my asthma is much better after the trip to the Richmond ER, even if I am still coughing up junk from the pneumonia. I know that things will eventually change even though I am bleeding once more.

I am trying, really trying to be still before God. I am trying, because even I understand that there is nothing more that I can do. There is some reason, some purpose for all of this. I have learned more of myself and more of my faith. I have learned who my friends really are. I have been humbled by my doubts and my worries and how God has slipped in those dark moments with clear reminders that He is walking beside me, reminders of grace in gifts from others, reminders of truth in the balm of His word. And...I have found a peace in who I am that I have never known before.

Despite the mounting, staggering debt. Despite two months of struggling with my health. Despite it all, given what I have learned, what I have received, how could I regret this past year? I did not choose this. Given a choice, I would run hard and fast from this path. Yet, God choose it for me and in doing so bestowed the strength and mercy of His son upon me to help me navigate this journey.

Selah.