People always say (generally) that they hate the taking the bus places...and I think I have fallen in that catergory to some extent. I hate it on one front, and one only--the length of time it takes verses being in a car. If I need to be somewhere it can beocome frustrating. However, I did not write this blog to rant and rave about why I hate the bus--I wrote it to talk about how much God blesses me through the people that I meet on the bus. I feel like everytime or nearly every time I take the bus. it is an adventure. I watch the people around me, listen to langauges that I have no clue what the people are saying, even the smell---yes the grungy bus smell that reminds me of the nursing home, somehow...is a haven. How on earth is a bus a haven you ask? Perhaps that is not the right word..no I'll go with it. I like the bus because it is raw and real--these are average every day people...and there is no covering it up. Maybe they have a walker, maybe they have a seeing eye dog, maybe they are a single mother with her two kids or a grandmother with her grandchild. Maybe its a new immigrant to Canada, or university students, or the slew of International Students from Columbia Colledge. Maybe its the bus driver, or the woman that I met who can't afford to pay for transportation to the doctor because she moved cities. Maybe its the pregnant girl that looks like she's no older than me, who seemed to content to have a casual conversation with a total stranger. I think I will call it "bus culture." It's ecelectic. You see a bit of everything. It's not like living in cookie cutter housing and never seeing the rough areas of town, its a bridge between the two--upper and lower class, its a bridge between faiths, cultures, ethnicity, it is a unifer. That is why I like it. How else would you ever meet some of the interesting people that I do? Cute old ladies with war stories and reminicing of their deceased husbands. One welsh lady I met the other day told me about her Dad fighting in the Boer War! She went on and on about how uneducated we are these days, and how far her Grade 7 education has carried her. She told me many crazy stories and talked so fast I could hardly keep up with her. The only words that managed to escape from me were "I hope I have stories as adventureous as yours to tell when I'm your age."
Another elderly lady I met was from eastern europe---I forget where. Somewhere that starts with an L I think. She too told me about her husband passing away and what it was like to be ambulatory and cognizent as an 85 year old living with other aging elders.
I've met a lot of neat people on the bus. Sometimes I dont meet anyone, sometimes I just read or think and pray. I love the bus, because it is one of those unexpected places where God seems to show up. Or, maybe its just the only place where my mind is still enough to notice Him.