I woke up last night to the sound of people on my roof. Well, at least that’s what it sounded like. I rolled over and curled up next to my pillow, hoping the noise would stop.

But it continued, and I soon realised I don’t have a roof anymore and that sound was actually construction workers working on the apartment above me mixed in with the cracks of thunder—not the local high-school drumline. Living in an apartment amplifies things.

I stirred and murmured to myself, “This is a big storm.” A crack of lightning (that was too close for comfort) ripped across the sky.

I lay there for a handful of minutes (that felt like an hour) and thought about the homeless people in my new city and what they might do for shelter doing the summer storms such as these.

I could only imagine the beating they have to endure during hail storms, snow storms and everything in between that mother nature throws at us.

Dawn came a few hours later, and I dressed for work as I read the local headlines on my phone, “Storms flood subway stations. Caution.” “Flash-flood warning.” …Etc

My eyes were wide with disbelief as I read them across my breakfast table which happens to also be a desk, a nightstand, and a communal table for different hobbies.

Things are different here in the city. I work a lot more, I find myself sleeping-in, the summers are filled with clouds and humidity, and lastly the most exciting part of my day is people watching in the subway cars.

Life is different here in the city.

This past Wednesday morning, I idled my walking on my way to work. I stopped at the red hand instead of just jolting across. I marvelled at the way the sunlight sifted through the humid morning vapour.

As I waited for the walking signal to turn green, I watched a homeless man cross the street. He pulled a red sleeping bag over his shoulders and kept his head low as he walked.

I thought, “Geeze, he must have had a rough night. I wonder where he slept.”

I walked on, and said to myself, “I wish I had something to give him.”

But my Apple watch told me I’d be late if I didn’t hurry along.

Sometimes I think we expect God to write us messages in the sky. Other times, we hope he’ll speak audibly, but the most common way I hear from God is the little voice that gives me an idea or suggests I do or say something good that I wouldn’t have thought of on my own.

That morning, He might as well have smacked me across the face as if He was standing right next to me waiting for that walking signal, too.

All that came to mind was, “You don’t have time to give him something because you’ll be late for work? How DARE you think that going to work matters at ALL if you don’t do what you are called to do? Didn’t I say, “Love thy neighbour?”

I couldn’t turn around out of my subway station fast enough. I missed my train. I missed seeing my normal commuters. I was late to work.

I didn’t know what to say as I handed the homeless man my apple that I had packed in my lunch. He quietly said thank you as I pulled away. I wanted to sit there and ask him who he was. I wish I had.

Lately, there seems to be a lot happening in our world that doesn’t look like “love your neighbour”. And if giving an apple to a homeless man on my street proves to me that there are some good people still out in this world then I better start buying bags of apples by the bushel.

Love is patient. It’s kind. It isn’t jealous, nor deceiving. It doesn’t brag. It doesn’t quickly become angry. It doesn’t take pleasure in evil things.

Love celebrates the truth. It always protects. Always trusts, always hopes, and it always perseveres. It doesn’t fail.

Love is not a mere sentiment about the marginalised and alienated. Its action-packed. It’s an adventure, and trust me, it will radically change your life.

My favourite part about my day is smiling to those around me and showing my love, my hope, and my fruit that the spirit has instilled in me.

Life is different here in the city. People don’t love. They don’t smile. They are quick to anger, distrust, and deceive.

My hope is that my fruits will be planted and maybe sprouted—even if it just means smiling and giving away my lunch.

One of my favourite quotes was said by Thomas Jefferson,

“In the matters of fashion, swim with the current. In the matters of principle, stand like a rock.”

Sometimes all it takes is an apple to bring me back to my roots—even if I’m still new to this city.

In reality, men can count the seeds of an apple, but only God can count the apples in a seed.

After all, there are 7,500 varieties of apples and an endless number of humans to give them to.

Planting Seeds, Uptown Maven