A Quiet Place

We returned last evening to city chaos. The rental car weaved in and out of heavy traffic before exiting the BQE onto Broadway where we stopped, inched forward, halted, moved slowly, and squeezed by a row of double parked cars. Horns sounded, scooters and bikes zipped in and out, pedestrians ambled through not seeming to notice how their lives could be snuffed out by the green light.

Welcome home! We unloaded our luggage and returned the rental car to Budget. Afterwards, we waited on a bus. When 14 minutes turned into 40, we became impatient. Laurence used the Uber app. In one minute a car picked us up. The driver dropped us off in front of our building.

Only yesterday, I looked from the second story of the large windows of the Carriage House Airbnb in Elkton, Virginia, onto a pastoral scene of sheep enclosed in a green pasture that was surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains, which were at peak fall glory. I listened, and I heard no sirens, no people, no rumbling trains; only quietness. Laurence and I drove miles on the Skyline Drive, hiked by musical waters, and picnicked high on a mountain where we had an awesome view of God’s glorious creation. 

This morning, a dog barks, a motor of some sort runs in a neighbor’s apartment, footsteps, traffic noise, music, sunshine and shadows on the fire escape and on rooftops. This is Elmhurst, Queens.

I experience quietness in Elmhurst as well as in Elkton. God says that He is the Good Shepherd. We are the people of His pasture. I am safe from the evil one who comes to kill, steal, and destroy.  “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters” (Psalm 23:1,2).

Berniece

PS I was also impressed that if I want the quietness of a sheep in the fold, I must have nothing to do with the kingdoms of this world.