What I Learned Stuck in Traffic During My Cummute to Work
Last week I was stuck in heavy traffic on the way into my office in Manhattan and hopelessly stuck in traffic on the way home. World leaders gather at the UN this time of year, and I unfortunately took the brunt of their vehicles causing gridlock throughout the city. Fortunately I wasn't driving, so on the way in and on the way out, rather than just get frustrated, I managed to look out the window of the bus I was on and learn a thing or two.
On the way to work crawling through traffic, by the grace of God I said my Rosary calmly and with a fair degree of attention. I say "by the grace of God," because many have been the times when being stuck like this, and therefore potentially late for a meeting, my thoughts and emotions would have been hopelessly wrapped up in me, totally focused on my misery and anxiety. But this time they were focused on God, through my praying the rosary. Being the self-centered lout that I am, this was a great break-through, and followed years of attempting to turn such situations into opportunities for prayer and meditation without the distraction of thinking primarily about myself. Thanks be to God for giving me the grace I needed (in this case actual grace) in that moment.
On the way back home, now not crawling but sitting absolutely still ten or fifteen minutes at a clip, I was just about to pull out a book I had for just the occasion, but decided instead to look out the bus window again. The street of my virtual confinement was Madison Avenue from about 57th Street up through about 70th Street. Here you transition from midtown to the more residential East Side neighborhood, Madison being lined with some of the most expensive retail stores in the world. I once spent a fair bit of time in this area on business, but haven't been back - except to drive through - for a while, so the environs weren't foreign to me. My eyes saw what they'd seen many times in the past. But this time my brain processed those images of people and businesses differently. As I observed the way they walked and talked, either on their cell phones or to each other, the world of the super-rich - for that's who typically lives here - presented itself in a new light. They were "different" yet "the same." They looked and walked with a swagger and confidence you don't see in neighborhoods of "regular" folks. Yet, having met and worked with enough of them, I knew their real lives were not especially better in any substantive way than mine or most other people. Their riches might effectively mask their problems or the barrenness of their interior lives, but when you get to know such people, the disguise doesn't wear well.
Okay, maybe it's painfully obvious to tell you that just having money doesn't make you happy, but this isn't some intellectual exercise and I'm not just making a generic comment. I really did get to know some these folks, and in those few moments hopelessly stuck in traffic the stark contrast between what you have and who you are simply jumped out at me in a way it never had before. Perhaps the presence of Holy Spirit diffused in that fading light of evening stood behind this deep impression?
All of this came together after arriving home that night. Somehow still sustained by the grace of God and this presence of the Holy Spirit, I managed to avoid the usual grumbling that would typically signal my arrival from a long drawn-out commute. I just went about tidying up the work day by completing a few business tasks, and tidying up myself to get ready for a late dinner. And as I ate my evening meal after saying grace, I could feel a sense of gratitude for the simple fare of a weekday meal there in my plate. I knew how blessed I was (in a material sense) here in my home in America in the 21st century compared to untold billions - including my own ancestors - who would consider this a feast fit for a king rather than a simple supper. I knew also how blessed I had been (in a spiritual sense) by actual grace on the way into work and by the presence of the Holy Spirit on the way back home.
And so the awful traffic of this work commute served not as a trigger of a slew of complaints or a litany of "Woe is me," as it might have in the past, but rather as a time of grace and inspiration.
Deo Gratias!
On the way to work crawling through traffic, by the grace of God I said my Rosary calmly and with a fair degree of attention. I say "by the grace of God," because many have been the times when being stuck like this, and therefore potentially late for a meeting, my thoughts and emotions would have been hopelessly wrapped up in me, totally focused on my misery and anxiety. But this time they were focused on God, through my praying the rosary. Being the self-centered lout that I am, this was a great break-through, and followed years of attempting to turn such situations into opportunities for prayer and meditation without the distraction of thinking primarily about myself. Thanks be to God for giving me the grace I needed (in this case actual grace) in that moment.
On the way back home, now not crawling but sitting absolutely still ten or fifteen minutes at a clip, I was just about to pull out a book I had for just the occasion, but decided instead to look out the bus window again. The street of my virtual confinement was Madison Avenue from about 57th Street up through about 70th Street. Here you transition from midtown to the more residential East Side neighborhood, Madison being lined with some of the most expensive retail stores in the world. I once spent a fair bit of time in this area on business, but haven't been back - except to drive through - for a while, so the environs weren't foreign to me. My eyes saw what they'd seen many times in the past. But this time my brain processed those images of people and businesses differently. As I observed the way they walked and talked, either on their cell phones or to each other, the world of the super-rich - for that's who typically lives here - presented itself in a new light. They were "different" yet "the same." They looked and walked with a swagger and confidence you don't see in neighborhoods of "regular" folks. Yet, having met and worked with enough of them, I knew their real lives were not especially better in any substantive way than mine or most other people. Their riches might effectively mask their problems or the barrenness of their interior lives, but when you get to know such people, the disguise doesn't wear well.
Okay, maybe it's painfully obvious to tell you that just having money doesn't make you happy, but this isn't some intellectual exercise and I'm not just making a generic comment. I really did get to know some these folks, and in those few moments hopelessly stuck in traffic the stark contrast between what you have and who you are simply jumped out at me in a way it never had before. Perhaps the presence of Holy Spirit diffused in that fading light of evening stood behind this deep impression?
All of this came together after arriving home that night. Somehow still sustained by the grace of God and this presence of the Holy Spirit, I managed to avoid the usual grumbling that would typically signal my arrival from a long drawn-out commute. I just went about tidying up the work day by completing a few business tasks, and tidying up myself to get ready for a late dinner. And as I ate my evening meal after saying grace, I could feel a sense of gratitude for the simple fare of a weekday meal there in my plate. I knew how blessed I was (in a material sense) here in my home in America in the 21st century compared to untold billions - including my own ancestors - who would consider this a feast fit for a king rather than a simple supper. I knew also how blessed I had been (in a spiritual sense) by actual grace on the way into work and by the presence of the Holy Spirit on the way back home.
And so the awful traffic of this work commute served not as a trigger of a slew of complaints or a litany of "Woe is me," as it might have in the past, but rather as a time of grace and inspiration.
Deo Gratias!
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