The tall and narrow buildings in New York tower over you, one of my favorite parts. They tower over you, as a mother does when she reprimands her child. Normally, this would make a child scared. But not tonight. Tonight, this child would make a memory and learn a lesson that would stay with her, for the rest of her years.

***

The bright lights of the billboard illuminated our view from the moment had we stepped outside.  The icy air and howling wind nipped at my face, causing me to burrow my nose deeper into my soft striped scarf.

            “Still think it’s a good idea to live in New York?” Dad looked back at me, chuckling.

            I had wanted to live in New York for as long as I could remember. There was just something about the cold weather, the flurries of snow, and the tall buildings which seemed as if they could touch Heaven if they tried.  

            We made our way across streets and sidewalks and crossed to Times Square. As we walked, I could smell the strong scents of the nearby Chinese restaurants.

Oh, Chinese does sound good right now!

“Can they turn those lights down Mom? They’re hurting my eyes.” Mia squinted her eyes at the Times Square billboard and turned back to looking at the street, making an oddly sour face.

“I’m not sure Mia, let me just call Mr. Times Square and ask him to turn them down.” Mom held up her hand to her ear and made a phone. She pretended to ask Mr. Times Square to turn the lights down, Mia laughed and continued with her humming.

After walking along the slush filled streets, we talked about where we were going. It still felt like a dream.                      But as we stood under the illuminating yellow bulbs, it finally felt real.

We were going to be seeing Hamilton, in New York City! My sisters squirmed around while my dad fumbled in his pocket for the camera.

“Alright! You know what time it is!” My Dad moved his shoulders up and down, doing a little dance.

My sisters groaned as Mom guided us under the sign and placed us next to the cream-colored brick wall, and under the shining sign, getting us ready for a picture.

“Excuse me, sir?” Dad said to a middle-aged man in the back of us. “Would you mind taking our picture?”

Before we knew it, we were posing under the glowing Hamilton sign, showing our best smiles, and looking out to the city. From this view, maybe I could convince my dad why I wanted to live here.

The rushing of the nearby cars. The quiet flutter of a pigeon’s wings. The siren sounds. The friendly chatter along the sidewalks. Loud music from nearby billboards. The quiet snow, slowly falling.

I awoke from my daydream with a Thud. An oddly small car door slams and a man, dressed in black jeans, a navy-blue coat, and a green and white patterned beanie, jumps out of the small car, skips up the steps of the poorly paved sidewalk, and comes next to me, getting in our family picture.

“Um…Do you know this man?” The man taking our picture asked, with a puzzled expression on his face.

The sounds of the excited chatter around us grew, as people started recognizing this man.

We—however. Did not.

Dad looked at the photo-bombing man, and back at our photographer.

“No. No we don’t”

            The strange man laughed.

            “They don’t know who I am yet, but they will soon.” He smiled and looked back at the camera and awaited the click.   

Ok, can this guy just get out of our picture already?

What is his problem?

            Our photographer looked hesitantly at the man, then towards Dad, and snapped the picture.

            The green beanie wearing man hopped back down the uneven stairs, waved goodbye to us, as if he had known us his whole life.

Ok, THAT was weird.

Silence.

Confused glances.

             Mom walked slowly to the cream-colored brick door the man had walked through a few seconds earlier, turned to see the letters and out loud, read, “CAST ENTERANCE.”

            “Um. What?” Ok, now I was officially confused.

            “We got a picture with one of the dancers.” Cadence returned to scrolling on her phone, saying it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Then an older looking man, wearing a Hamilton lanyard came out of that same small door and glanced around.

His eyes settled on us.

“Ma’am, do you know who that was?”

Another round of confused looks were passed.

            “That was him.”

Twenty years seemed to pass before the lanyard wearing man spoke again.

            “That was Hamilton, like Hamilton in the show.”

            Quiet eyes stared.

            “Like the Hamilton you will be watching today, that’s him.”

            “Shut. Up.” Cadence had finally looked up from her phone.

            Mia stared at her, wide eyed in disbelief. “CADENCE! You can’t say that.”

            Mom turned to ask the lanyard wearing man if he was serious. But as she looked for him, standing on the brick wall, he was gone.

            As we stood back in line, people around us grew anxious, and finally had to ask:

            “Was that really him!?”

             “Oh my gosh, no way!”

             “And he just came out of nowhere?!”

            As my parents told the story to the adult kindergarteners, they gathered as if it was story time.

I can remember the noises of New York getting louder at that moment. The sounds of the sirens grew. The Christmas music being played on driving by cars seemed even more “holly jolly.”

And the moment I was in, was still.

And it was quiet.

New York—was quiet.

It had gone from confusion, excitement, and a rush of joy–to a stillness, that was unexplainable.

And I realized that I was in New York.

In New York City.

I was in New York City, at Broadway.

And how beautiful it is that I am here, and I have almost missed it.

 I was almost caught up in the excitement of the show, and the confusion and the rush of joy from meeting this strange man.

And I almost missed it.

   ***  

God showed me that I get so caught up in the things of this world, the excitement, the joy, the utter life in living, so He took a moment to make me be still.

Soon those heavy black doors will open with a gentle swing—and I will go in. And I will soon realize the lesson God has given me, from watching a show.

                ***

Applause surrounded the theatre. I could not see a single person who was not on their feet.

People threw their hearts out in gratitude to these actors. For showing them an amazing story and displaying it so—perfectly.

And in that moment, standing in the velvet walls of the theatre, I knew that God had shown me a story too. And He had displayed it—perfectly.

***

Looking back, I can see that God took those three and a half hours, and showed me something, not the show, but really something. And I will never forget it.

The rush, and the hustle, and the chaos that was New York City, had peace and stillness within.

Just like our lives are so busy, but to hear Him speak, we must be still.

But I think it’s beautiful.

Beautiful how God used something, like meeting a person who is just like you and me and watching a Broadway musical to tell me a story.

And all I had to do, was be still.