Chinese on the Bus

He studied Chinese. I studied the faces around me. I love the bus. It is delightful and scary all at the same time. So much humanity contained in a narrow transporter of people. Where are they going? What do they do? How do they dream?

The other day a young man sat down next to me. He was nice looking in an offbeat sort of way. Like most riders, he didn’t make eye contact and tried to honor the space between us. A tantalizing aroma wafted my direction and I was temporarily overcome by the smell of his fresh latte and heard myself saying, “Wow, your coffee smells really good.” He smiled and pointed toward the stand by the roadside, mentioned they were pretty quick and that we had a red light. Just then the bus started to move. “Not quite quick enough,” I replied. And then he made a very tender gesture that took me by surprise. “Want a sip?” he asked. I chuckled and politely declined, moved by his offer nonetheless. He may have just been teasing, but I had the distinct feeling he would have honored his word had I responded “yes” to his offer.

We rode along and I noticed he had some handwritten vocabulary cards he was flipping through in a study-like fashion. “What language?” I inquired. “Chinese,” he responded. “Going on a trip?” “Nope. Just a hobby.” Our conversation continued for a few more moments. It was brief, but definitely brightened my day.

I always wonder about the people on the bus. They seem so solitary—plugged into their i-pods and hiding behind books, newspapers and blank expressions.

A woman sat across from me on the ride home. She was self-contained and quiet like the rest of the riders, but at one point in the trip someone got on the bus and caught her attention. She must have been fond of the person because her face lit up and transformed into a beautiful smile. It was like magic.

We desire community. Communion means ‘union with.’ Maybe that’s why people ride the bus and don’t even realize it. Maybe it’s not economic or ecological, but rather it is communal. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch to consider, but it’s definitely a world in which I’d like to believe. A place where smiles light up faces and strangers offer to share their coffee. Hmmm. I think I’ll keep riding for now. After all, it’s good for my wallet, the earth benefits in a small way and my soul gets surprised in unimaginable ways. Who knows… maybe I’ll even learn a word or two of Chinese next time?

photo by bill hughlett

100 "Ordinary" Posts

"Good Grief, Charlie Brown! It's a contest to celebrate our 100th post." Many readers and fellow bloggers have commented on my ability to take ordinary yet not so ordinary bits of life and connect them with faith and the presence of God. Others have said much the same about my husband's photography. What I would pose, however, is how can anything in life truly be seen as ordinary or simple, especially when considered within the context of God and creation?

Here I turn to one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, who says, "I knew that if you had eyes to see, there was beauty everywhere, even when nature was barren or sloppy, and not just when God had tarted things up for spring."

There truly is beauty everywhere whether it is flying in the sky, sipping a cup of instant decaf, playing with the dolphins, waiting in the darkness or meeting a stranger on the bus. To mark this 100th post, I would love to have you share your favorite "ordinary" things from this site. You can choose either a post, photograph or sidebar. Everyone who participates will be eligible for a small set of notecards from H3 Images (i.e. my favorite photographer).

Entries will be accepted now through April 30 and the winner announced on May 1. So, leave your comment today!

moving toward myself

moving toward myself
embrace the face before me
pink-toned skin of newborn babe
diamond floating in the sky
fearless woman; tender child
eyes that shine with tears and light
lips of ruby red forming
words of new delight
feathered wings steer this flight of
fiercely tender paradox
moving toward myself

I found this tucked away in my list of posts never published. Somehow it feels right for this Sunday morning. (It was written March 20, 2007).

Authenticity

"The most gracious and courageous gift we can offer the world is our authenticity, our uniqueness, the expression of our true selves." Sue Monk Kidd

For some reason the above sentiments have stuck with me for a few days--always together. So...Here's to being our authentic selves...reassuring as that may be.

The Woman on the Bus

Well, much as I would like to say I have another wonderful, peaceful story to share…that would not be the case with this tale—although it does start out that way. Monday afternoon I once again boarded a very full bus for my ride home. It started out delightfully as a man offered me his seat—an action almost never seen in my experience. I said, ‘thanks, I’m okay,’ but he insisted and told me that ‘chivalry was not dead.’ We laughed and conversed with a couple of other passengers until the next stop when he exited the bus. The exchange left me smiling and with a sense of hope.

The ride continued and I found myself between the window and a youngish man wearing large headphones, ensconced in his own world. As the bus came to a stop the woman in front of me needed to exit and her seat partner stood to let her out. The partner was facing me and just as I was about to nod and smile, her face darkened and she spit out, “Quit staring at me because I’m black!!” and then as she plopped into her seat she muttered rather loudly, “Bitch.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Thoughts raced through my head. Is she talking to me? How could she think that? What did I do? She’s black? Her color had not even registered in my thoughts. I found myself wanting to apologize and say something to her, but realized that would be for my benefit not hers. I then started to wonder about the obvious anger and hurt inside of her. How had she become so guarded? Who had done this to her? Why must people be so unkind and cruel? It felt like she was spitting hatred onto me that had been heaped onto her throughout her twenty-something years of life.

And so, while very different experiences, this one has continued to stay with me as does "The Man on the Bus." These encounters have been added to the fabric of my life. It feels somehow trite to say, but I pray specifically for this man and woman and wonder where their lives will lead them. I have been changed by my experience of them while realizing my existence may not even register for them. We never know in life when or how we touch others.

"In surrendering to the miracle of the everyday, the Warrior of the Light notices he cannot always foresee the consequences of his actions. Sometimes he acts without even knowing that he is doing so, he saves someone without even knowing he is saving them, he suffers without even knowing why he is sad." --Paulo Coelho

May we all choose to surrender to the miracle of the everyday!

photo by bill hughlett