Stream of Thought: Small but Strong

"I want to be okay when I'm sitting here alone
Not just thinking of the ways that I could have done it wrong
No I'm getting kinda rich on this side of any soul alive"
 - New Morning, by Alpha Rev


Saturday morning. The two eggs sizzled in the pan as I gently moved a blue rubber spatula through them. I added Swiss cheese and bits of kale, transferred the cooked contents to a bowl and mixed in some pesto. The coffee in my gleaming copper French press was still steeping, so as an audio book played on my iPhone, I picked up my bowl and fork, eating while walking slowly through the living room and dining room. I checked on my orchid, which is budding beside a dining room window. Since they say that positive communication can effect plants, most mornings I've taken to audibly encouraging the orchid to bloom while misting the roots with water. Even though I've been waiting for weeks, every day is surely closer to seeing a flower. I wait with hope.

Finishing my eggs, I washed the dishes before pouring a cup of coffee. Steam curled upwards from a blue handless mug while I grabbed a pad of paper and jotted down the ingredients I'd need to buy for making lunch for the Casa Gabriel boys the next day; a vegetable stir-fry with sausage over noodles. There's a grocery store just a few blocks from the house, an easy walk there and back.

Finally picking up my coffee, I grabbed a notebook, pen, Bible and my Kindle and headed to the terrace. The funny thing is, when the apartment building I lived in was designed, it was decided that this floor would include a terrace, however, the building wasn't coded to include a door leading to said terrace. Therefore I have to get outside by going through the guest-room window. There's also no water source out there, meaning I have to fill up a watering can in my bathtub before hauling it back outside, in and out the window just like the nursery rhyme. This isn't the only oddity I've seen in the apartment. Originally, I planned to move into the ground floor apartment (before the landlord's decided to let their son use it instead. I moved in with a roommate, and when she left I moved in here with a new roommate). The ground floor is a bit basement-like because two sides are enclosed by the large garage, so not a lot of natural light enters. Along with the open floor plan kitchen-dining room-living room space, it includes one large bedroom with a funny raised area which could be a mini office, and a sunken storage area which I pretended to think was cool when I received the first tour but really thought was a little sketchy/creepy. The strangest part, however, is the phantom stairs. Open a closet, and there they are; several steps leading to nowhere. The architect had planned to have an internal staircase connecting each of the building's four floor apartments, before scrapping that - apparently in mid-construction - in favor of the traditional outdoor stairs. I would love to see the floor plan with all the subsequent changes.

"We're putting a staircase smack in the middle of the building ... wait, no, we'll keep the middle part of the building open and turn it into a skylight, yeah, and um, just leave those four steps, stick a closet around them. Okay, the second apartment is pretty large, the owners did ask for that indoor swimming pool after all, so we're going to let the top two apartments be a bit smaller. We're going to add a terrace to the side of the third floor, and I guess the fourth floor needs one as well, but hmm, now we've really narrowed our space ... we'll just keep going up and let the fourth floor have two levels. Three if you count the loft. Okay, we're giving the fourth floor two terraces, front and back. Great! Wait, back to the third floor terrace, we didn't plan a place to put a second outside door ... oh well, let them use the window. Personality, am I right?"
Seriously.


Outside, I walked around and checked on my plants, noting which roses I'd need to deadhead, which geraniums could use more water, and which succulents seemed a bit rotten from too much rain, etc. To the west of my home is Mount Pichincha. A cluster of poles is visible towards the top, each vying for the title of tallest, yet the actual mountain peak is often hidden behind a layer of cloud. To the east, the city of Quito spreads down into the valley, the many-colored rectangle buildings with their flat roofs asking the skyline until the clouds obscure yet other mountains in the Andes range: Cotopaxi and Cayumbe. Their snowy peaks are only visible on very clear days, and how incredible they are when they are seen.

I think of how the many plants on my terrace are under my care, as are the Casa Gabriel boys I'll feed and watch over on Sunday. Yet how small I am. How small amidst a busy city nestled between the mountains. How small, strong, capable, and powerless, all rolled into one. If Mount Cotopaxi erupted more than simply smoke and ash as it did two years ago, there'd be nothing I could do. I think of disasters, natural and man-made, from time to time, yet I can't worry about them. What would be the point? We are all small in comparison to such things.

Sitting on my terrace, I took a long drink of water, hydrating from a run earlier in the morning. We are all small but strong. We find our strength. We find it in hope and faith and love. By letting these things take action and be action in our lives. All things should have a purpose. I feed myself to live and be able to feed others. I tend my terrace garden simply for the beauty of it, for beauty feeds a vital part of ourselves as well. If there are times when I cannot feel the God-given strength within me, I pray and plead and praise, searching anyway, knowing in faith it is there for as long as God allows it. Just as I know the mountains are there even when they can't be seen. They are there, just behind the clouds.