The Day I wished I was Invisible

I’d never seen such a thing. A thick white snowy blanket enveloped the city. The temperature was so low that Lake Michigan had frozen over and appeared to rise above the ground.

“Please come with me,” he pleaded. “This is a decision we’re both making!”

“But the news says people should not leave their homes unless it’s totally necessary and you know how much I hate the cold!” I responded.

My husband had just graduated from medical school and training for a specialty was the next step, which also meant we had to move far away from our country and our families.

The third of several interviews for medical residency took place in a hospital an hour away by train from downtown Chicago.

We wanted to do God’s will over our own, so we prayed before every interview and asked Him for a sign to know what to do.

I dressed as warmly as my weak winter wardrobe allowed.

“We’ll miss the train if we don’t hurry. Can you hold on to me, so you stop sliding every other step?”

The scenic view outside my window pulled me into a jigsaw puzzle of a magical winter landscape draped with snow and ice, so different than our tropical homeland.

“As soon as we get back, we’ll get you some snow boots, ok?” He said as he rubbed my feet. “Those shoes will definitely not work in this weather.”

When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted by the hospital administrator. He informed me that the interview would last all day and suggested that I return to the city.

I felt a little disappointed for not being able to support my husband, but happy to go back to the comfort of my hotel room.

The taxi dropped me off by the platform at the small train station. The sidewalk disappeared underneath a knee-deep mountain of snow.

By the time I made it up the steps to small building my feet were wet again.

Strangely, the door did not have a doorknob. I wiped some snow off the window and cupped my hands to look inside but was unable to see through the dark glass.

I settled for the cold bench on the empty platform.

People here are smart to stay home on days like this! I should’ve done the same!

My cashmere gloves lost their glamour as I repeatedly wiped off my runny nose on them. My feet went numb again, so I decided to do jumping jacks, jog in place and practice a little aerobic dancing.

The faint warmth in my body helped to calm my nerves from the fear of losing my feet to frostbite and the eerie silence of my surroundings.

Just when I thought that I would turn into a block of ice, a faint whistle announced the train was approaching.

A squeaky sound behind me interrupted the winter silence. I turned around to discover the small door opening from inside.

A group of people paraded out, all staring at me and laughing behind their puffy winter coats as they walked into the train.

What!

Just then I realized the cab driver had not dropped me off at the entrance, but at the back door of the train station.

They had been watching me all along!

Humiliated and frozen I entered the train, took a lonely seat in the back and covered my head with my coat, pretending to be asleep but really wanting to disappear.

As soon as my husband walked into the hotel room I said, “We are not moving to Chicago!”

I told him my sad experience and he laughed so hard he fell off the chair.

Chicago became a place of submission and a place of obedience for us. We asked God for a sign, and that embarrassing morning I was certain I had received it.

“Ok,” he said, “We’ll just wait for the Lord to show us where He wants us to go.”

And He did.

I guess God was also laughing that day because we lived in New York City for the next five years.

Eventually I owned the right kind of shoes for the snow, but I could never get used to the cold weather and we still laugh when we remember that morning when I wanted to disappear.