on those tempest kinds of days

Our 2008 Hoboken apartment view

I was reading an article today about New York's tech start-up scene and it's growth over the last decade, and I was reminded of an interesting experience we had.  In the article, it talked about the market crash in September 2008 (and how that also ended up leading to a much more vibrant tech scene for the city).

What I remembered was visiting New York in September 2008.  Jordan had just started with Animoto and they'd flown our family out for a week. We went to church Sunday morning with the Manhattan ward, and the feeling was somber. We sang "Master the Tempest is Raging" and those speaking did so with expressions of great angst. And I remember thinking basically 'what happened?'  Maybe I'd heard little bits and pieces about the developing housing crisis, but, nothing like this. (Of course it wasn't too long before the impact already seen there became much more wide-spread.  A few years later, when we struggled to sell our home in the middle of a flood of short-sales and foreclosures, we finally felt its effects a little more personally.)

Something about that meeting has stuck with me though. From the outside, it was easy to sing "Carest thou not that we perish? How canst thou lie asleep?" And to know, of course the Lord cares. Of course He is aware of these struggles and ready to comfort and help... It's easy to read this scripture story, knowing the ending - and think of the fearful disciples and think  'of course, the Savior is with you, how could you be afraid?'

But, at other times, I've cried out in my own way just as desperately "I perish! I perish dear Master! Oh, hasten and take control!" (And many other less desperate, but heartfelt pleas.) Every once in a while, I've remembered that Manhattan Sacrament meeting and been able to remind myself - just like I felt so easily then - of course the Lord knows me, is aware of me, will help me. Of course.