Good morning

I hear a subway train pull away from the Elmhurst Subway Station as I trot down the steps into the familiarity of an early Saturday morning. Commuters do not line the platform, but they will before another train pulls in. I am not the only New Yorker going to work early this morning.

Is the rain over and gone? Will the flooded stations again have trains running through them? How will I get to market this morning? My plan is to take the R to Queensboro Plaza, then a shuttle bus to the shuttle train that goes to the Island. If the above fails, I’ll pay the price for an Uber driver. Last week, a man from Bangladesh picked me up only a couple minutes after I messaged. He surprised me by asking if I’m Amish from Pennsylvania. I cannot (do not want to) hide who I am. “I’m Mennonite. Have you heard of the Mennonites?”

Now I ride the R train surrounded by hard working people of every tribe and nation. Sleepy ones too, and some wear masks. The lady beside me has blue fingernails. The pretty Asian lady across from me looks like a stewardess. The Mexicans ride with their backpacks.

The day feels full of opportunity to let the Light shine.

That’s a peek into the last 15 minutes. Trains screech. “Stand clear the closing doors. Next stop Queensboro Plaza.” Have a good day. I’d like to hear about your morning. Love, Berniece