Finals are only a few days away and I really should be studying like a good girl. But, I have realized that thoughts are only fleeting and when I don't write them down, they leave my mind as quickly as they enter. So, before I hit the books, take a trip with me.
Let me set the stage. The bus stop on 3rd and Pike is a microcosm of city life. It is filled with such a diverse group of people: old and young, black and white, educated business owners and uneducated homeless people, drug dealers and students from private universities. Most of the time, this particular bus stop is a scary place to be. I have been offered drugs on multiple occasions and have found that the safest bet is to just put in my headphones and block out the world until bus 13 pulls up to the curb so I can scan my bus pass and ditch the terrifyingly diverse crowd of people. Today, however, was different. After minimal sleep and a couple too many "snoozes" of the alarm, I was running late to catch my bus. I forgot my headphones. This wasn't a problem on the early morning bus ride because there are less people out and about, and less people means less to worry about. But after my internship, however, I realized I had to brave that bus stop for a whole 20 minutes without headphones. It may sound silly, but I was legitimately worried. After walking a few blocks from the building in which I work to the bus stop, I realized that I would have to try to blend in. So, I slunk against the wall of the building behind me, along with a few other stragglers. Pretending to be in my own little world, I heard and saw the most interesting things.
Scene 1.
A disgruntled man, probably in his 50's approaches me. "Ayy miss, you got a smoke on ya?" I kindly reply, "No, sorry, I don't smoke," all the while thinking to myself, "Seriously? Do I look like I have a smoke in my purse that I am going to hand over to you?" With sad eyes, he turned the other way. Out of what seemed like nowhere, one of this man's old friends appeared (or at least it sure seemed like they had known eachother). "Man, you got a smoke?" the first man asked. The newcomer replied, "Nah, I don't do that anymore. I got clean." "You got clean?" a shocked voice inquired. "Yeah. I have a granddaughter now. Did it for her." "You got sponsors and all that?" "Yeah. Yeah I do." "I'm proud of you man. I'd love to meet your granddaughter some day." Then, the conversation was done.
It seemed like something out of a movie; it just didn't seem real. I couldn't stop thinking about their conversation all day. On one hand, I felt so much sadness for that man's child who grew up with what seemed to be a very absent father. On the other hand, though, I felt so much gladness that his grandchild will know a grandfather - a clean and sober grandfather. And in the confusing array of emotions brewing inside me, there was hope. Hope for the man, his child, and his grandchild; but, also hope for the first man, because you never know what it will take to spark a change. Maybe seeing his old friend get clean is the spark he needed. All I can do is hope and pray.
Scene 2.
An old man with a walking stick used by the blind was slowly walking down the sidewalk. He was all alone. Nobody was moving out of the way or offering assistance. It was as if he was invisible. He looked lost and was walking so very slowly as if he was hoping that someone would help him out. But, nobody did. I knew I should. Inside, all I could think about was how unfair it was that I could see and he couldn't. I did nothing to deserve sight, and he did nothing to deserve not having sight. But yet, the reality was that I had vision and he didn't. I knew I should help, but it was as if something deep down in me was paralyzed; all I could do was silently watch as tears welled up in my eyes. Why was no one helping? Why was I not helping? And, as slowly as he had walked on to the block, he disappeared around the corner. The minute he disappeared, I was stricken by an almost painful sensation of guilt. Why did I just stand there and do nothing? I realized then, that I had missed my opportunity and at that moment, all I could do was pray. So, I prayed, choking back tears (I don't know why it moved me so much to see this blind man, but it did). I prayed that he would be guided and that someone would offer this man help if that is what he needed. A couple minutes later, the man rounded the corner that he had just disappeared behind with a woman that I would never have thought would think twice about a blind old man. She was clearly homeless, probably in her high 20s or early 30s. She was guiding the blind man. Eventually, they walked past me and I there was no doubt in my mind that this homeless woman would help this blind man find the place he was looking for. The whole thing was nothing short of beautiful; and yet again, I was filled with hope, because I had seen that even in a world with so much sadness, people do care. And it shook my world to see that the person that cared this time was the person I had never expected.
Scene 3.
Finally, the bus pulled up. It seemed as though I had waited eons in the cold and rainy dampness that is Seattle for that bus. I waited in a line at the front door while the bus driver lowered the lift so that a woman in a wheelchair could exit at this stop while the rest of the passengers exited at the back door. I saw a grungy looking woman sneak on the back of the bus while others were exiting, knowing that it was not allowed and that she was trying to skip out on her fare. When the wheelchair lift retracted into the bus, the whole line realized that the bus driver had seen the woman sneak on too. He would not let all of us who were lined up on the bus. Instead, he began to yell at this woman, telling her that she needed to pay her fare or find another bus that would let her slide on unnoticed. She pretended to ignore him for a while until his loud voice and obvious relentlessness moved her to come to the front of the bus. She apologized for the confusion and pulled a couple of dollar bills out of her backpack and paid her fare. She proceeded to sit in the front seat of the bus and ask the bus driver if he stopped on Mercer. He ignored her for a while but she persisted. As all of us in line finally found seats, he said that the bus did stop at Mercer and 1st. She asked if that was close to Seattle Center. He said that it was in the same general area. The bus stopped at Mercer and 1st and the woman did not exit the bus. She asked the driver if she could be informed where the closest stop to Seattle Center was. A few stops later, he told her that it was the Seattle Center stop. She chose not to get off and wanted to wait until the Key Arena stop. The driver was getting frustrated and told the woman, while the bus was approaching the Key Arena stop, that this was the stop she should get off at. At this point, the woman seemed very overwhelmed. She said that she was looking for something that was by Seattle Center and Key Arena. "I can't help you, but this is your stop," the driver said firmly. A man from the back of the bus, quite a ways away, with a cane and some very large glasses stood up at the stop and told the woman that he was familiar with the area of town and would help her find what she was looking for. The man with the cane and the woman with the backpack exited the bus and disappeared toward Key Arena. I don't know what prompted the man with the cane to help this woman find what she was looking for, but there is no doubt in my mind that she was grateful he did. Yet again, help for this woman came from the most unexpected place.
Finale.
I can't stop thinking about these three situations I encountered today. I still am not sure what to make of them. All I know is that when I finally got off of the bus, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope. I saw that help comes when it is needed the most, and that, today at least, it came from the most unexpected people in the most unexpected places. And, I know that there is beauty in this broken world and that God is at work. If these kind of beautiful interactions can happen on this earth, just imagine the beauty that is yet to come.
