Irony Becomes Her

Being a chronicle of one type it takes to make a world

I used to be very social on my bus rides, willing to talk with the drivers and whomever else on my rush-hour commute. Now that I ride quite late at night, though, I've been quite a bit more hesitant to engage my fellow riders. Most of them keep to themselves, as do I.

A man introduced himself to me last night, though, despite my knitting and earphones, as Joey. He appeared similar to many others who ride at that time, smelling of smoke and a bit weathered, though I bet he was actually younger than I. My main piece of evidence for this was that, in the course of the conversation, when I told him I was almost 28, he said I looked good "for 28." How flattering!

He was quite chatty, and his many questions were largely broad and abstract. I wasn't about to volunteer much, but he managed to extract from me that I was happy, that it was because God had blessed me, and though human love is imperfect and insufficient to make people happy, Jesus has made a way to heaven. His thoughts wandered everywhere, so I didn't try to lead him up the Roman road or anything.

He asked where I went to church; I told him, and I asked if he went. He said he did, but he couldn't remember the name of the place. Hmmm.

Because of the general impairment of my own brain at that hour, I don't recall everything we discussed. But it was another opportunity to refuse fear and trust the Spirit to speak his words into that life that is so foreign to mine.

I am thankful my stop is at the end of the route. I declined to tell him where I was going to get off, and he preceded me in alighting. But despite the caution I feel I must practice, my heart went out to this, a wandering sheep of God's creation, whose aunt knits, but not like I do.

posted by Lynn @ 6:32 AM