the man on the bus

the other day i had a curiuous incident with a man on a bus. he was sitting in front of me, and upon reazling that I was a forgienger he proceeded to turn around and casually stare at me for the remainder of the trip. I thought this was odd, and at times he would try to mumble to me in low spanish. I wasn´t quite sure how to respond, so I acted in a reserved manner and tried politely not to converse with him. He seemed to want to tell me about his family that lived in that states, but as we are taught, when we have red flags go up, obey them.

i went home and laughingly told the my communiuty about the man who stared on the bus. We chuckled and everyone shared stories of the same thing that had happened to them. I felt weird about it though, like maybe I hadn´t done what was right, and if he was a harmless old man, longing to regale stories of his past to a youth who might hear him out, I had sadly failed him.

Two weeks passed when I got on the bus again and who was sitting right in front of me but my buddy. My friend Carolina who happened to get on at the next stop, hopped on and in English I asked her if she remembered the man who stared. Looking to my left she noticed the old man, gaping again, and we both giggled out loud.

The next stop a few vendors climbed on to sell their goods, and the man in front of me bought a bag of fruits that they have in Ecuador. By the man´s clothes and his lack of teeth, I could see his poverty, and knowing that he was headed to the same place I live, I knew he didn´t have much spare change to spend. After he fished out 20 cents from his pocket, I hoped in earnest that he would face forwards and not continue to look at me as he ate. But to my dismay he held out the bag for me, and asked me to accept a gift from him. I told him that I couldn´t, but thank you for the offer. He insisted however, with the generosity of the people here that I will never understand, and upon taking the bag I smiled at him warmly to let him see my gratitude, the response he had put his 20 cents towards.

He turned around and for the first time making direct eye contact, he said, ¨We are all sisters and brothers. We are all the same. God bless you.¨

I felt shame rise up inside of me, for turning him down, for refusing to converse with him earlier, for looking at him the same way that everyone else on the bus did; like he was different. He humbled me right on the spot, and humilty, although a virtue, is always painful. That is what makes it humility.

I have been seeing that love has no divisions. I have divisions. I divide out what I think I can afford to give to others, or what I think they need, or in vain, who I think will give back to me. Love doesn´t hold back, there isn´t a shortage of it. Love is God, and God is in all things. We kill and destroy that love when we refuse to give it to all equally, because we think we know. I don´t know. I have no answers. Yet God in his mercy, still gives me love.

And that´s how I saw the face of Christ on a bus.