Plots are for stories, accidents for life. Chance seemed more
significant than choice.
-John Dufresne, Johnny Too Bad
It
is by chance that I read these words in the last hour of my bus ride to
Scranton just after Gail’s stop. It is by chance that I was even on that bus.
By chance that I woke up this morning with the spontaneous idea to buy a
ticket to LaGuardia to take a bus to the Port Authority in Manhattan to take
the 11:00pm bus to Scranton, PA. It is by chance that I sat in the last empty
row of four seats leading me to give up my seat so that a little girl and her
father could sit next to each other and it is by that chance that I ended up
sitting next to Gail.
Gail
is a middle-aged black woman who lives in Mount Pocono, a onetime Brooklynite
from the Adirondacks. She is a gentle woman; she speaks softly but is
assertive. She has just a dash of grey coming in around her temple and her
voice is reminiscent of an old time Blues singer. She works for the police
department in Brooklyn doing clerical work but desires so much more. A
missionary at heart, Gail mobilizes people from her congregation and hits the
streets to bring the love of Christ to those in her neighborhood. Wanting to serve
and love better Gail recently received her certification as a Nursing Assistant
so that she can offer more to her community. She wonders if it’s possible to go
to another country to do missionary work.
As
I sat by myself in the very last row of the airplane headed to LaGuardia I
hoped that I’d meet someone interesting on the bus and that we’d have great
conversation. Gail is more than interesting she’s inspirational. We discussed
daily life, aspirations, and religion. I taught her about the Chinese language
and she taught me about the bus route. Mostly though, Gail taught me about
myself. In the two hours I spent seated next to Gail I learned about who I am,
how I relate to God, and why I love people the way I do.
Gail
got off the bus the stop before mine, leaving me with forty minutes to coast
through the darkness of Pennsylvania in deep reflection. The last twelve hours
have made me come alive inside. It was as if God was breathing air into my
lungs for the first time. I was overwhelmed with joy and appreciation. It made
me realize that in people I find God and in spontaneity I find his freedom.
I’ve never been one to fly through the clouds or stand beside the mountains or
look out on the ocean and be amazed by what God had created. To say to myself,
“there is a God and this is his work.” But on that bus I looked around and said
just that. Look at the people that God has created, he is real and they are his
works.
While
Gail was getting ready to leave the bus she turned to me and said, I hope we
meet again. I told her, we will one day. Until that time comes though I will
think about Gail often. I will pray for her and relive that moment over and
over again in my head. I will tell friends about her and work parts of that
moment into future conversations. As my memory fogs I will remember the
experience differently. Things about Gail will change and how I speak of them
will too, but what she taught me will remain. What I take away from this trip
will forever be valuable.
I
might have made the choice to go though with my idea, to change my flight ahead,
or to switch seats with that little girl, but it was the chance in this trip,
in that moment, in this life that is most significant.
