A Lot Can Happen on a Bus Ride

We were on the last bus out of Biloxi, heading to Gulfport.

There was a wheelchair bound, elderly man who came aboard. His manner of dress and his unkept beard made him look scruffy. I don’t know for sure if he was a Vietnam Veteran although he wore a ballcap that said he was. Regardless, there was a weariness and a roughness about him that suggested he had seen his shares of battles, political or private, in some form throughout his life.

He chatted about this and that as we rolled along, sometimes addressing us but mostly the driver. As I listened, I kept getting a feeling that there was a reason we were sharing this bus ride. But I just sat there, pondering, unsure of what I should say, if anything. Before I knew it, he was departing. It wasn’t a quick departure as the bus driver had to release the locks that held his wheelchair securely in place and lower the ramp. I sat and watched, leaning towards my husband to whisper, ‘I think maybe we are supposed to pray for this man today.”

But his chair was on the sidewalk now and the driver was returning to the driver’s seat. “Just a minute,” I said as I leaped up and bounded out the open door. I rushed up to the elderly man and putting my hand on his shoulder I bent down and asked if I could get his name. He looked surprised that I would want to know, and he gave it to me in full – first, middle and last, then said, “But everyone calls me Pops.”

“Pops, I’d like to pray for you today. Is there anything in particular I could be praying about?” I asked.

He looked at me thoughtfully for a second then responded with this: “Yes, you could pray that people in this world would treat everyone with dignity and respect no matter who they are, what they look like or where they come from.” I felt like he had a lot more to say but the driver was yelling at me now to either board or be left behind; he had a schedule to keep and was about to close the doors.

“I’ll be praying for that, and for you too,” I promised, as I rushed off back to my seat.

Being the last bus there were not many other travelers that evening. A mom with her adolescent son, and a young man with tattoos and a bicycle who chatted with us a bit, but I couldn’t get Pops out of my mind.

The next day was Saturday. We were already two days behind our anticipated departure date, and it looked as if we would have to wait a couple more days before heading to Pensacola, Florida because of the relentless rains and thunderstorms that pounded the coast of Mississippi.

Sunday came and went. By the time Monday rolled around we realized that we were using up our stores of food and water and would once again need to reprovision for the trip ahead, which meant another bus ride to the grocery store.

There is a bus station right across the highway from the marina where we are staying. Sounds convenient, right? Turns out we have knack for missing buses. Always a day late and a dollar short might be the epitaph carved on our headstones one day!

Taking that into consideration we decided to plan carefully. We had lots to do to ready ourselves for tomorrow’s departure. We studied the bus schedule; scrawling drop-off and departure times and plan-B bus stop options to the backside of our grocery list. We wanted to make sure we returned to the boat before the afternoon rain started.

As we headed out I couldn’t help but think that there was a chance that we would run into Pops again and if we did, I hoped we could continue to our conversation. I said a little prayer asking God if He would make this happen, confident that if it was part of his plan, He would.

Thanks to the effort we put into planning our route we were able to hop on a bus minutes after reaching the station. That was a first! We disembarked at the store, with no Pops in sight. We spent about an hour shopping. We didn’t dawdle but we weren’t in a rush either because this time we knew when we needed to be back at the stop and were keeping an eye on the time. After checking out we sorted our groceries and boat supplies into our backpacks, insulated tote and reusable Aldi shopping bags. Then we headed across the street to the bus stop.

We got ourselves and our goods comfortably settled on the bench with our three dollars and fifty cents of fare in hand, ready to board the bus with ten minutes to spare. I took one last glance at the back of my shopping list to confirm this was true. I was about to fold it up and put it away when my husband Chris, who had been looking over my shoulder, said, “Wait, does that say Edgewater Mall?”

“Oh no!” I groaned. “We’re at the wrong stop. That means this bus left ten minutes ago!” I frantically dug beneath the groceries stuffed into my backpack and pulled out the bus schedule. It would be at least 40 minutes until another bus came by.

“Do you think we can make it to the other bus stop in less than ten minutes?” I asked my husband, hopefully.

He studied the distance, glanced at our plethora of grocery bags and slowly shook his head. “We’ll just have to wait,” he replied. Then he sat down and pulled out his phone. I let out a deep sigh and followed suit.

When I happened to look up after a disappointing round of Wordle, guess who I saw coming down the sidewalk? You’re thinking Pops, aren’t you? Nope, it wasn’t Pops, but it was the young man that had ridden the bus with us that same evening!

As he approached, he said, “Aww, you guys just missed the bus by about ten minutes. The next one won’t be here for a while.”

“Yeah, we went to the wrong stop. We should have gone the other way toward the mall,” I said.

He looked at our stuff. “You have a lot of bags, do you want me to help you carry them?” he graciously offered, looking off toward the mall.

“Thanks, but there’s no chance we’ll make it in time,” Chris answered.

We chatted about different routes and schedules for a minute then the young man said, “You don’t remember me, do you? “

“Of course we do,” said Chris

“Yes, from the bus,” I added. “But you had a bicycle last time. You’re on foot today?”

“Yeah, I’ve been out looking for work. I just got a job at a body shop, but I don’t start till tomorrow. I wish I could work today so I could earn a few dollars to get a new tube to fix my bike and get something to eat” he added.

We almost never have cash on us, hence the ‘always a dollar short’ portion of the would be headstone epitaph, but because we needed exact fare for the bus and had a load of laundry on the boat waiting to be washed, we had pulled out an extra $20 when we paid for our groceries.

Chris reached for his wallet, “Let us help you out,” he offered. The young man put his hands up, shaking his head. “No man, I wasn’t trying to get money from you. There are a few places I can stop at and see if they have some work for me today,” he said adamantly as he backed away.

Chris was imploring him to take the small offering and the young man looked as if he was about to hastily walk off.

“Wait,” I said, “what’s your name?”

“My name’s Chris”, he replied.

“That’s Chris too”, I said, pointing to my husband. “I’m Laura. I’m so glad we ran into you today, Chris. Do you have just a minute? Could we pray for you?”

“Yes!” He said enthusiastically. “I’m a Christian too!” We all held hands right there on the side of the busy street and we prayed for Chris, the same things we pray for ourselves and our kids every day. We asked God to watch over him, to protect and to provide for him. To lead him and to guide him and help him to grow stronger and bolder in his faith as he seeks to know God more intimately and follow Him more closely. We prayed that he would be blessing to others by being a light in this world that radiates the love and grace of God. We thanked our Heavenly Father for giving us the opportunity to meet Chirs that day and for his new job. We asked that He would give him wisdom and strength to do his tasks well and that he would find favor with his new employer.

Chris expressed his thanks to us for the prayers but rightfully gave God all the glory for the blessings. He humbly and reluctantly took the bit of money my husband offered. He said he was going straight to the store to get a tube for his bike and after saying our goodbyes we again took up our seats on the green, wooden bench.

We thought about how God had orchestrated everything. Consider this, that morning, before opening my Bible I earnestly prayed that He would reveal himself to me through His Word and that it would transform my heart, bringing it in alignment with His own. Then I opened it to the book of James and studied chapter two. There I read how we are to love others and to show no partiality based on wealth, social status or hope of personal gain.

Then, to make sure I got it, God repeated His message through an elderly gentleman on the bus who everyone calls Pops. This rough looking, wheelchair bound man that I thought needed something from me, had something for me; the message that all people deserve to be treated with respect and dignity.

And just in case there was any doubt about what was in His heart, He made sure I heard it one more time during Sunday’s sermon which ended with the pastor teaching about Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount of how we are to treat others as we wish to be treated.

Three times He instructed me: through His word, then an individual on a bus, and finally a sermon. Then He gave me an opportunity to put His word into practice when we ran into Chris who ‘happened’ to be walking by the same street we ‘happened’ to be sitting at. We were only sitting there because we were at the wrong stop. We were still sitting there when Chris came by only because, despite our best laid plans, we had missed the bus.

And before it came around again, we saw Chris once more. He came back Walmart bag in hand, to show us that he indeed had bought a bike tube. We had not considered he wouldn’t.

He also wanted to warn us about those who would take advantage of the kindness of others. “This is kind of a rough town”, he explained. “Theres lots of homeless people here, I’m just recently off the streets myself,” he admitted. “They will take advantage of you any way they can. If you give them money, who knows, you just might be funding their overdose. You’re kind people, please be careful”, he warned.

As he was speaking, I was thinking of my own brother, who by the grace of God was finally off the streets and clean after nearly three decades worth of many heartbreaking years when I rarely heard from him or knew where he was. When we finally met again, nearly a year ago now, so much time had passed that he didn’t even recognize me. It was in church and he made room for me to pass in front of him as I came down the row where he was standing. I could see the questioning look on his face when I stopped in front of him. I just stood there looking into his eyes, and then I saw it, recognition washed over his face, then he wrapped me in a huge bear hug! It still brings tears to my eyes when I think about it.

And really, that brings me to the point of this whole story…that God is good. He is gracious and he is ever-present. There is evidence of His handiwork all around us and if we can’t see Him, maybe we’re not really looking.

Maybe we are just going through life living out all these little moments, some that are mundane and frustrating even, and we think they are unrelated and unimportant. But there’s God, who sees the whole picture, and He is weaving our stories together into something beautiful.

I know, this is supposed to be a sailing blog (sort of), and this isn’t a sailing story; so why am I telling you this? Because whatever I am doing is so boring in comparison to whatever God is doing. I find it overwhelmingly amazing that the Creator of the universe, the Lord of all, wants insignificant me (and you) to know His heart. Doesn’t that just blow your mind? It does mine.

Whenever I see evidence of God’s desire and willingness to reveal Himself to us, to live in relationship with us, even now on this side of heaven, I get excited and I want to share it. In fact, I want to yell it from the mountaintop! God is good, He sees you, He loves you, He has a plan and a purpose for you and if you seek Him, you will find Him.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention Emily! A beautiful, young lady we met here at the little Farmer's Market next to the marina. She makes some of the best cookies I have ever tasted and trust me, I've (obviously) tasted my share of cookies! Sweeter than the cookies she bakes is her Christ-filled heart that overflows in her love for others. I think she is a role model for many who wish to shine brightly in this world and live with a kingdom purpose; sharing the good news of the gospel which is a message of hope and redemption through Jesus.

Here is a link to her website: thegoodnewscookies.com