Monday Morning, Watching the Elevator Numbers Come Down

Monday morning, I shut the front door and pressed the elevator button. The number came down slowly, eleven, ten, nine, and I just stood there watching it. This week there was the month-end report, two messages left over from last week that I had put off, and a meeting on Thursday with a team I hardly knew. Nothing had happened yet, and my shoulders were already up near my ears. Sunday night had been fine. The moment the door clicked behind me, my body understood that the weekend was over.

When the doors opened, a neighbor was already inside. "It got cold, didn't it?" she said, and I answered, "Yes, all of a sudden." In the mirror I saw my own face with the coat collar turned up. The expression that had loosened over the weekend had already turned into the one I wear to work. All the way down to the lobby that face felt like a stranger's. It occurred to me that I take it out and put it on every Monday.

What I read on the way out

Dry leaves had piled up in the flower bed in front of the building. Only last week the ginkgo had still held some yellow, and now its branches were mostly bare. The wind was cold, so I stopped walking and opened still() on my phone.

Don’t you be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. Yes, I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness.

Isaiah 41:10 (WEB)

It didn't read to me like words that settle all of the week's worries. But my eyes stopped at "I am with you." The report, the messages, the unfamiliar meeting would each come to me one at a time, and I took it to mean that I would not be standing alone for any of them. I don't know what that changes right now. I can't say the fear is gone. Still, my shoulders came down a little. I had left without gloves, so I put my cold hands in my pockets and listened to the leaves under my shoes for a good while.

Walking to the bus stop, I counted only what had to be done today. Check email before nine-thirty, send one message before lunch. That was all. Having counted it, I saw that a single day was not as long as I had feared. I decided to think about Thursday on Thursday. People wrapped in scarves, like me, stood quietly at the stop, and I thought they were probably all getting through much the same Monday. The bus pulled in just as I took my place. A gust of warm air rushed out at the door.

Today's breath — Stop walking, and breathe out slowly once.