Hiatus: Seeing Injustice, Embracing Mercy

This normally does not happen, but the staff allowed me to attend the book signing of one of the leading Middle Eastern analysts in the nation after I received an invitation from him, which is a huge honor for any person to receive. So I am currently here, typing in McDonald's at 30th Street Station in Philly.  Being back in Philly is amazingly wonderful for me. Here, I'm surrounded by most things familiar: the people, the business, even the station itself.  Additionally, I hold a greater appreciation for this place because I have just stay awake all night long trying to travel to Philly.

The trip required that I travel by bus from Ocean City to Atlantic City and then from Atlantic City to Egg Harbor.  From there, it was a straight train ride right into the station.  In between stops, I had a one hour layover for each one.  While I am exhausted, I must say that this uneventful ride was covered with God all over it.

Getting from OC to AC was no problem.  I lost my Harry Potter virginity and cruised straight through listening to the first book.  I was so into the story, I nearly missed my stop.  But the bus driver was nice enough to tell me where I needed to get off.  I then waited in AC's bus terminal from 2:45 to 3:45, which believe me, is not fun.  Everyone in there, it seemed, was coming back from some shady activity.  Most were drunk and were trying to sleep off the alcohol.  A few other characters were just plain creepy.  I stuffed my face into the book, Many Colors, which we are reading right now for OCBP, and focused on culture and God.

Eventually, I got on the bus that was going to take me to the train station in Egg Harbor.  As we were about to leave however, the bus driver stopped the bus for an elderly man who could not walk fast enough to catch the bus on time.  He shuffled over to the bus as the traffic controller ran over with him wildly waving her flashing red night stick.  Even though the driver had lowered the bus to almost ground level for the man, he was so weak, he could barely lift his leg onto the first step.  "Miss, can you help me please?" he pleaded with the controller.  "I can't get my leg up.  Can you help me lift it?" She was hesitant, but eventually helped him on.  As he struggled up the steps of the bus, I noticed three immediate things about the man: 1.) he was black, 2.) he was highly educated because of his manner of speech, and 3.) he had recently been hospitalized because a blue and white plastic band was around his wrist.

A sudden rush of emotion came over me as I watched him struggle to pay the bus driver.  Since I was sitting right behind the driver, I hurried out of my seat and sat in the one behind the first one.  The man looked at me with so much gratitude in his eyes, "Thank you, miss.  Thank you very much." I could barely say "Your welcome." I just nodded and smiled at him.  He then collapsed into the chair and passed out in front of me.  He reeked not of alcohol, but of urine.  He was unkempt and very dirty.  Most of all, he seemed totally helpless.  He reminded me of my own grandfather who recently died at 67 of malnutrition in a nursing home.  I've learned to become more sensitive to the elderly, especially because I've realized that we don't have them forever as we'd like to hope.

I couldn't help but silently cry as I rode down to Egg Harbor; every whiff of the man's urine-stained clothes making the moment more and more intense for me.  A thousand questions and rants filled my mind.  Injustice was sitting right in front of me and it smelled like urine, because no one could provide for this man enough care to make sure he had his daily needs.  Injustice looked like dirty and unshaven.  It looked like helpless and alone.  It looked like sick and ashamed. It looked like poverty and minority. Injustice looked like pitiful gratitude for even the smallest gesture.

And I ached because I knew that this fate could be the fate of anyone, including myself.  Not necessarily because this man had done something to get him into this state, but mostly because no one cared.  This morning, I both loved and hated the darkness on the bus.  While the darkness hid my tears, it also hid the man.  Only I, who sat behind him, could really see his wrinkled blue Phillies hat and small head bounce along as the bus sped down the road.

I got off the bus safely at Egg Harbor and made it onto the train.  The ticket ended up costing me $9.50.  I had paid ahead so I wouldn't get a surcharge on the train.  When the conductor came to me, he looked down at my bulging backpack and Arcadia sweatpants.  "Are you going to school?" he asked.  "Yes. I go to school," I replied.   The man took my ticket and told me that he would be right back.  A few minutes later, he came back with a map of the train route.  "Here you go," he said quickly and sped his way down the train.

I opened the map and saw my ticket in between the folds.  By this point, I was too exhausted to really understand anything else anymore. I shook my head, listened to chapter 5 of Harry Potter and fell asleep.  I awoke about 30 minutes later to the sound of "Cherry Hill station next stop".  My stop at 30th would be next.  As I rubbed my eyes and tried to make sense of my life, the conductor showed up again.  He whispered to me, "I gave you back your ticket because this economy is crazy.  It's not fair for students like you who just need to get to school and back to pay this much.  You looked familiar and so I didn't want to charge you.  Next time you're on this line, just look for me.  K?" I nodded my head, a bit puzzled but most definitely grateful.

Suddenly, I thought of the man who sat in front of me on the bus to Egg Harbor.  I gave up my seat for him and prayed God would help him, because it was the least that I could do for him.  And then, in less than 2 hours, God showed me the same mercy by sending this kind conductor who had compassion on college kids who did not get student discounts for transportation between school and home.  I smiled, and prayed blessings on this man too.  The verse from Micah 6:8 became more real to me than ever before, "What more does the Lord ask of you than to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?"