A Quiet Place

One of my favorite places in New York is North 5th Street Pier in Williamsburg. During the height of the pandemic last year, I felt like I needed to get out and explore. Without the option of travel and deciding to stop using public transit I had limited options. So I would walk around my neighborhood trying to find new places, and one day I came across this pier. It was nestled in a residential part of Williamsburg, and at the time the few people there were walking their dogs or looking for a place of solitude like me.

I usually sit in a similar spot whenever I go, and it overlooks the Williamsburg bridge and Manhattan. Much of last year I questioned why on Earth I was in New York and if I really thought I could make it here. But there was something about coming to this place and looking across the water that was part humbling and part uplifting.

Although I had the solitude of my apartment to myself, I was seeking a different kind of solitude where the volume of my thoughts could be turned down. At the pier, I was able to concentrate on the glorious harmony of waves crashing against the shore. I was able to see that there was so much more than what I was able to see or think or imagine. Here I am, in the city of dreams living the life I had fervently prayed for just years before.

In my quiet place, I am able to hear the still small voice of God. Today His voice told me to trust Him and give thanks for the shift that is coming in my life. I consider it a privilege to be able to find a place where I can slow down enough to listen and amplify grace and compassion against the worry that simmers in me.

I was reminded that freedom isn’t a battle fought on one’s own, and I need to be willing to be vulnerable enough to let people enter into my troubles with me.

I am thankful for this pier that reminds me my hopes and dreams are still valid and attainable, and that New York really is my home.