Eye of the Storm

There are no mountains in Manhattan.

Well, of course there aren't--not unless you count the kind made of concrete and steel!

When I talk about "mountains," though, I mean so much more than "natural elevations of the earth's surface rising to a summit." (Thank you, dictionary.com!) In Utah, whenever decision-making was imminent or it was time for some serious self-reflection, I would climb the base of the mountain behind our house and find a quiet place to think. Like Moses, Thoreau, and the guy from John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High," the further I am from man's creations and the closer I am to God's, the greater my sense of peace and spiritual renewal. In the mountains, even my friends who don't believe in God say they feel closer to something divine.

But I can't climb a mountain to escape the noise of New York City. Street vendors yell. Horns blare. Even at night, the construction outside my window continues into the early hours of the morning. Life here is rich and varied and exciting, but sometimes when I try to hear my own thoughts, the voice on the other end of the line sounds weak and fuzzy and, frankly, a liiiiiiittle bit drunk. There's too much static!!!

When a person is continually surrounded by flashing lights, loud noises, and the perpetual hum of activity, where is the eye of the storm? Where is the oasis of calm in the city that never sleeps?

"And it shall come to pass in the last days, [that] the mountain of the LORD'S house shall be established. . .and all nations shall flow unto it" (Isaiah 2:2).

As I crossed the street from the Lincoln Center this morning and walked toward the building that serves as both the meetinghouse and the temple for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I knew I would find my mountain oasis. I'd found it in London as a foreign exchange student. I'd found it in Rome as a backpacker. I'd found it in Ukraine as a missionary and in Boston as a newcomer to the East Coast. And I'd find it here too.

As I ascended to the third floor of the building, the noise of the street died away. Then the congregation started singing "I Believe in Christ," and the newness of New York City melted into a warm familiarity. My mind started to clear. My thoughts began collecting themselves. And then those wonderful little nudges started working their way into my mind and heart--those nudges of inspiration that sometimes collide unexpectedly to fuse in a sudden flash of understanding! I love moments like that.

When the first meeting ended, I turned to meet the girl sitting next to me and discovered that her name is Lena and that she is visiting New York from Russia. When I cried, "Ой! Классно! Я по-русски говорю," her face lit up, and we spent the next fifteen minutes conversing in Russian. I also saw three or four people that I'd known in Boston, and I met several new people--many of them interns like me, living in New York for the very first time. Three of us are going to go sightseeing in New York tomorrow afternoon. (Классно!) The most unexpected encounter of all was Katie Robinson, a girl I'd known from high school who is now living in Kentucky. I hadn't seen Katie in seven years, and she and her husband just happened to be visiting New York this weekend. It's a small, small world--especially for members of the LDS Church!

One scriptural concept that I really love is the concept of tender mercies: "I will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance" (1 Nephi 1:20). According to Elder Bednar, one of our modern-day apostles, "Tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ" (The Tender Mercies of the Lord).

Tender mercies are what I've been receiving daily since the beginning of this New York adventure, and today, I saw a tender mercy in the topics we discussed in each of our church meetings. All of them spoke very directly to questions I've been asking lately: What does it mean to endure well? How can a person retain hope even in the face of recurring disappointment and failed plans? How does a person hold onto idealism while being grounded in reality? How can I know that I'm taking my life in the right direction? We had a stimulating and honest discussion in Relief Society about those very issues, and I already feel closer to the other girls in the class (we're all passing through the same sorts of experiences). How wonderful that we can gather every Sunday to strengthen and support each other!

So, you know, I think there are mountains in Manhattan after all.

One is the church building on 65th street, and one is the mountain that I can choose to climb spiritually every day. Want to come along for the hike? :-)

*****

Side note: I just got back from the most fascinating joint presentation by Rabbi John Borak (a delightfully humorous, personable, and well-spoken man who converted to Judaism from Roman Catholicism) and Brother Ahmad Borbitt (Director of the LDS Public Affairs Office). The topic was "love thy neighbor as thyself." I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of doctrinal disagreement on the topic! Rabbi Borak pointed out that, as a result of centuries of persecution, many Jews are understandably resistant to engaging in inter-faith dialogue. Mormons are no strangers to persecution, though, and he hopes that our communities will be able to interact and support one another in positive ways.