Payment in Full

As a kid, my idea of place and shape was dominated by emotion. Granted, shows like NCIS and NCIS Los Angeles painted my imagination of big cities in shades of prison gray, money-driven green and the general sprinkling of colors of moving masses. Movies like Enchanted persuaded viewers of the magical power of cities like the Big Apple, and their ability to break into genial song at the drop of a sparkled tiara. My first couple of visits to the city, however, convinced me of its realities. At first, I wasn’t a huge fan of the city; there was too much poverty, too many problems, too much world for a kid to impact. As I’m growing up, I’m learning to love the mixture of people, taste, experience and culture found only in the city. I’m still not convinced that the city is for me, but I’m learning to appreciate it. My staunch resistance of the lure of city “space” is probably due in large part to my frequent visits to my grandmother’s old farm in Idaho, my own upbringing in a small town, and one particular moment I experienced as a young, muddy soccer player, rather than any direct media influence. Our team had just beaten Mapleton’s group of eager girls, keen on grass stains and battle wounds; I paused before hopping into the “Mormon assault vehicle” (Mini Van to those outside of Utah), taking in the beautiful view and sweat-free air. We had played on a field that rested nearly at the base of breathtaking mountains. I begged to take a quick drive to look at the homes of those privileged enough to live in Mapleton. When we reached the area, we discovered that the inhabitants were indeed privileged, millionaires to be exact. When I found out the cost of such beauty, and its inaccessibility to my sweat and mud encrusted person, I cried. I rarely cry. I could blame my tears on exhaustion, but I believe it was the realization of an insatiable hunger for beauty, peace, reflection and ease, things introduced to me through nature and media. Nature called, tantalizingly; Media promised, and then delivered the reality check. In retrospect, however, I am grateful for the experience. It is, quite honestly, one of my favorite memories; I experienced a remarkable beauty, and lesson. I think God gives us moments of beauty to sustain us through the difficult times. While life may deliver a reality check, I’ve a million more memories of tender mercies. I find I have no debt to the disappointments of reality.