View From a Bus

View From a Bus

            Savannah and I are two years and four months into our bus adventures.

            If I haven’t mentioned it, we are viewing the world from the Pierce County Transit now in Tacoma, WA. Beautiful, sunny California turned out to be just a space of time between events.

            Savannah, now almost seventeen, has seen more views from a school bus than we have from public transit in the last five months.

            Today, however, as the common gloomy skies that make up Washington decided to share with us a “fair” day, we made the most of it.

            Out here, there is cause for major excitement when the weather man declares we will experience any weather 50° F and above. And believe me, one learns to appreciate a day when you don’t have to turn on a lamp in the daytime or spend twenty minutes layering clothes to take the garbage out.

            So we walk to church to begin our Sunday as we always do. That is always a most awesome start! Afterwards, as Valentine’s Day is just over a week away, we decide to bus to Wal-Mart and see what varieties of delectable items we could purchase for those we love. We are selective when it comes to our loved ones, but when it comes to chocolate, we don’t discriminate.

            Being Sunday there were only a scattered few passengers on the bus. I was immediately drawn to a diminutive, dejected looking fellow. Probably only in his thirties looking more in his fifties by the harsh, craggy lines creasing his face, his ski cap pulled firmly down low enough as not to detect if there was a head of hair under it or not. His beige jacket securely zipped up to chin level, arms enclosing himself and legs crossed so tight that it gave away how thin he was under the jacket. His ankles, bare above his socks, almost as delicate and slender as a woman’s.

            As the bus calmly careened down the non-trafficked Tacoma Street, he kept his gaze focused out the window, seeming as though being that close to other humans caused him discomfort.

            I had been cloaked in a shroud of peace all day, which his apparent sadness penetrated. It had not the power to eliminate my peace, yet seeped into its circle as fog enshrouds an otherwise undisturbed clearness.

            I felt a pull to go to him. What could I give? A soul with such profound aloneness, maybe composed throughout a lifetime, can be virtually impossible to reach, even bring a smile to. Money can bring a smile to the face of most people, though I had none to share. A word of encouragement I could not conjure. Even to say, “Hey, everything will be okay,” would probably sound trite. I am not one intimidated by approaching anybody and will never be found with a loss of words, so I hate to confess that I remained on my side of the bus.

            When he too quietly asked the bus driver how close they may be to a hospital, he sounded like a small boy and his request went unheard. I quickly repeated it louder for him. The annoyed bus driver glanced in her rearview mirror and answered him. He offered profuse thanks to the hard-faced woman.

            The compassion in my heart was great and left me with that deepened sense of gratitude that humbles my too often grumbling mind. We have so much, even in our worst case scenarios. It is hard to say if the man was homeless, without family, money, friends. It seemed that way.

Having said that, in the end I offered him my very best, for in my heart I said, “Lord, please take care of your son. You know his heart, you made him. You know what he needs and more for you know all things. Bless him Lord, and keep him close. Amen.” When I looked over again, he was gone and our own destination was close. I was reminded of my favorite verse, “Always be kind to strangers, lest you be entertaining angels unaware.”