Meeting God in others:

...It's very fashionable, trendy-still-to be involved in big business, and there's something seductive, compelling about the great game of Wall Street, megamergers and hostile takeovers, as well as the staggering, unreal amounts of money it all involves-and what that money can buy...

...Everyone seemed to be holding his or her breath, waiting for an eyelid to flutter, some sign of life...

...When the coast was clear, I walked her to her destination, and I still remember her tearful gratitude...

...Moments to wonder...

...Like Anne Frank, I believe that people are basically good at heart, and I believe it even though I have always worked in New York City and lived in the crowded, busy, industrial Northeast...

...This incident, when I think of it, still astounds me...

...At times the job is challenging and fascinating, but it leaves me somewhat isolated in this world of people...

...An example, and this is an obvious, easy one...

...I don't always go to the same church, and there is something profoundly moving about hearing my voice blend in with those of strangers around me, in response and in song...

...And sometimes there are incredible moments when I can actually feel God's presence, moments of light interspersed among the gray and every-day...

...Out, of course, churches are great settings for little miracles: what's harder, a much bigger challenge, is meeting God outside church walls...

...I cannot forget the one winter evening, several years ago, when I darted out across Broadway on a green light, and the heel of my shoe abruptly snapped, sending me sprawling into the path of oncoming traffic...

...They involve making a quick decision, a choice that reaffirms our faith...

...The streets of the city offer many such moments, when another person enters our lives, however briefly, and changes it, sometimes subtly, almost imperceptibly, other times in more dramatic and permanent ways...

...Once I was approached by a somewhat shabby, elderly woman who greeted me with a hug, a strange greeting: "Lydia, how nice to see you again...

...MEETING GOD IN OTHERS IN DAIUNESS, SMALL MIRACLES KATHY PETERSEN CECALA THE LAITY & THE LIFE OF FAITH It those times when I think of the Catholic laity, I don't always think of myself as being a part of that huge and diverse group...

...There are enough of these moments to convince me that God's love is present always in our lives...

...I often mourn the fact that my work does not bring me into closer contact with fellow humans, but it does, at least, propel me outward when work is over...

...That is where I find God, not in my computer screen (despite what some popular novels might have me believe), although the sheer complexity of the world I record dutifully each day suggests to me the workings of a much higher being...

...One especially hectic Friday evening, midway under the Hudson between Jersey City and Manhattan, I sensed a weight pushing against my shoulder...

...I believe, because there is always one small moment, some small miracle which occurs to give me reason to hope...

...These I consider tiny miracles, "miracles" in the most basic sense, from the Greek root, mira, to wonder...

...we have strong ties to both our families and make an effort to strengthen friendships, some of which date back to childhood...

...And I am, to be truthful, attracted by it all...

...I worry that my growing fascination with money and business-and accompanying sense of materialism-is impeding my spiritual growth, setting up roadblocks in a path already filled with enough dips and twists and turns to last a lifetime...

...When the young man finally did manage to rouse himself, and sit up wobbly, there was a collective gasp, some applause, and chuckles of relief...

...Sometimes, I go to Mass on my lunch hour, if for no other reason than to get out of the office, to get away from the relentless glare of my computer screen, particularly if my workload for the day is heavy and dull...

...Rather, I deal in information storage and retrieval, and so find myself in the cold, inhuman world of statistics and data...

...But even less dramatic moments are special, too, some so quick, so fleeting, you could miss them if you blink, or look away...

...My husband-who works as a graphics artist, alone at his drafting table, without much human contact as well-and I are active in our community and civic groups...

...I was about to shake her off, thinking her senile, when I noticed lurking behind her several unsavory looking characters...

...Even then, they are disposed of swiftly, converted into bytes and characters which glow briefly in amber, before I dispatch them, with a flick of a button, into the system's memory: an odd nether region I imagine as a sort of computer Purgatory, where all those nuggets of information, names and numbers, lie suspended in darkness, waiting to be brought back to life on someone else's screen...

...A stranger, and yet for a fleeting moment, the briefest second, our eyes meet and something passes between us, evident only in a faint smile of recognition, a slight bit more pressure in the handshake...

...Anytime I connect with someone else in a positive way, I feel good...

...My fellow Jersey commuters as a whole are an affluent but obnoxious lot, and there I am, jammed into a corner with someone's Rolex stuck in my face, another's Louis Vuitton tote stuck in my ribs, while the fellow next to me moans to his companion about taxes on his $300,000 summer home, or the unavailability of parts for his antique auto...

...and only through the occasional insider-trading scandal, or when some hapless arbitrager goes berserk, does that dark "real" world of unpredictable human beings reach my computer screen...

...The work I do is not that exciting...

...Suddenly, the handsome, pinstriped-suited-and very, very pale-young man next to me sank to the floor of the train...

...the cold marble floors, lofty windows, and hushed atmosphere evoke an unmistakable church-like feeling...

...It's very difficult, for example, to feel much love for humanity when I'm crammed into a rush-hour PATH train...

...others pulled the emergency cord, and went searching for a conductor, a doctor...

...Actually there is little chance that I will be sucked into this world of greed and power and desire...

...We are special, you and I; we share something incredible...

...When the train pulled into Hoboken, everyone dispersed, disappearing into the crowds, united only for a few minutes by a simple human drama...

...Just as I sort through vast amounts of data, trying to pinpoint what is essential, what is valuable, so too does my life-as a busy commuter, as a wife, as a Catholic-present myriad moments and experiences, which must be sorted through to determine what is meaningful, what is important...

...While it concerns money, I have no contact with any, other than my weekly paycheck...

...After a brief second of shock, dread, or fear, everyone in the crowded car took action, as if we'd been organized beforehand...

...But behind my computer, as an indexer for the nation's foremost business newspaper, there seems little opportunity for my faith to play any sort of role in my work, which deals primarily with the world of money: the intricacies of corporate finance and international exchange rates...

...I think of teachers, doctors, nurses, social workers-people whose workaday lives involve some worthy human contact...

...For example, teaching a co-worker some complicated task on the computer...

...But small miracles occur, even here...

...Then suddenly, "Yes...

...At once, everyone moved back, and several people stepped forward to loosen the man's tie and gently stretch him out...

...Seeing the corporate world on the scope that I see it in my everyday work-broken down into many, many tiny fragments and facts, intricate detail-gives me an interesting perspective on life...

...These are special moments...

...I quickly escorted her into a store, where she told me the men had been following her for several blocks, taunting her...

...When I enter my office building each morning, part of the huge World Financial Center complex in New York, I feel that I'm stepping into a secular cathedral...

...I plod through industrial-production statistics and overthe-counter listings and other dense data...

...And yet, probably because of my strict Catholic upbringing, it's a fascination I feel guilty about, like a sexual perversion of some sort, something forbidden and ultimately wrong...

...He hurried away, a tall hunched figure, before I could even thank him for possibly saving my life...

...And I find that people are essential to my spiritual growth...

...Or I see someone I had met at a seminar seven or eight months ago, and she greets me warmly, with recognition, even remembering the story I had told her about my mother-in-law...

...There is some potential in those occupations, I think, for affecting the lives of others in a positive way, winning grace through the practical application of the commandment of love...

...Simply put, I find I meet God in others-in their love and concern and attention...

...Before I could even react, or gasp, a man, whose face I never saw, scooped up and swept me over to the other side...

...I believe this even though I read continually of evil and corruption and injustice, even within the few city blocks in which I work...

...But I find myself continually looking, seeking out more opportunity for connecting and sharing...

...indeed, for risking his own...

...And though my particular job at this time involves little contact with others, it does send me outward, to seek out this essential contact...

...I remember a palpable sense of hope, as everyone waited, silently, for the man to be revived-there were no jeers, no remarks of anger or disgust, only quiet concern, hope...

...Sometimes we get to play the savior, too...

...I show her and show her and show her, but she doesn't understand, doesn't get it, can't get it...

...There is the sign of peace, turning to take the hand of the person beside me, or in back-perhaps another office worker, a Manhattan laborer...

...The elevators, with their dark paneling, seem like confessionals, and I often have the uneasy feeling that I've exchanged one religion for another...