Empty Cities

There’s something magical about riding through an empty city at one in the morning; skyscrapers and ferris wheels lit up with neon lights paired with an eerie sense of peace drifting through the abandoned streets. The situation’s initial oddity gives way to calm, new ideas filling my head the same way that cars and eighteen-wheelers will fill the interstate bumper-to-bumper in a few hours.

Perhaps it’s the complete and utter stillness of the world around that allows for the opportunity to sit and think with only the noises of wheels turning and engine working to accompany new thoughts.

I didn’t think I’d ever grow accustomed to loving both sides of the same coin-- the busy, hectic life I now hold dear filled to the brim with concerts, assignments, and cram-sessions in the practice buildings with the rare peaceful moments scattered around the semester comprised of anything from an extra-long shower to a few spare minutes at a piano to dinner with a friend or two.

But it’s the split seconds of quiet that’ve helped me realize that I’ve spent far too much of my time attempting to solve problems that I will never find the answers for. Not because they are outside of my grasp, no, but because they were never mine to solve in the first place.

I’ve always considered myself a “fixer”. Broken toy? I’d patch it together best I could and keep moving. Unnecessary drama in a friend group? I’d try to listen to both sides and attempt to work out a compromise… or stay as far away as humanly possible. Can’t play a part of my music? I’d fix that, slowly but surely with a metronome and a whole lot of grit.

Unfortunately, I can’t fix the world. It’s left me in pieces over and over again every time I’ve tried.

And that’s okay.

I can start small, with tiny things that mean a lot to me, like being a better Christian, friend, and clarinetist. I can problem-solve and troubleshoot for my fraternity and my band.

I’ve been trying to fix the empty cities in others’ hearts, whether the vacation be caused by a death in the family, a sudden move, a break-up, life being incredibly frustrating, or all of the above. I can only build so many bridges before they burn under my feet from the friction in my feet and the conflict in my heart.

It’s God’s job to breathe life. It’s my job to help when called.

… and I have the rest of my life to figure out how on earth that works-- the greatest problem I’ll ever try to find a solution to.