Today we drove from Boston (my favorite U.S. city) to the city of all cities. My heart was racing the whole time-not because Tim was driving like a New Yorker, but because we had a matinee to catch.
Wicked on Broadway.
It was the only thing I wanted to do while in New York. It would be the most expensive thing we would do in New York.
I might have shed buckets of tears if we were to miss this singular experience.
I had Tim drop us off at a subway station in the Bronx so he could skirt the city and drive the Suburban to our hotel in Jersey. (Someone had to take one for the team and sit it out with Jack.)
We were the only white folks on the train. Talk about instant culture shock for these Idahoans. I was pleased to find that my girls seemed unphased by this role reversal.
On our ride into the city, we encountered much of what is probably common to subway-riding New Yorkers: people selling overpriced candy in order to pay rent, a lady with outstretched hand, begging for money. Another disabled woman asked for help with her medical bills.
All this in a matter of minutes.
Admittedly, it was sobering.
Here we were, five females from Boise, Idaho, in New York City. Headed to a play for which we had paid $150 per ticket. In New York City. (Did I mention that?)
And we were riding a train with dozens, even hundreds of people who would never know that experience.
It’s been said that “ Comparison is the thief of joy.” While that can most certainly be true, I also believe that it can work the opposite direction.
I could lament the fact that, in contrast to many people with whom I associate, this was my first time seeing a play on Broadway. I could whine about how I can only afford to attend a single production while here.
Heck, I could complain about any number of things-from the fact that our seats were 11 rows back versus front and center to the inconvenience of sitting behind someone taller than I.
But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?
My takeaway from our train ride was that comparison can only rob us of joy when we lack perspective. If we constantly look in the direction of those who have more and do more than we, we cannot help but feel short-changed.
Alternatively, when we experience a world of the have-nots, we suddenly realize what a small percentage of the world enjoys the blessings we do. Instead of feeling entitled, our joy is enhanced by the gratitude we feel.
I know mine was. Dang, I’m glad we took the subway in today.