An old lady fell outside McDonalds today. There is a large gap between the ground and the parking lot lining, and unable to lift her leg high enough to step over into the lot, she fell right onto her side. There was no one around and I was stuck on the bus, looking at the scene from afar. She remained on the floor, yelling, but I could not hear from behind the windows.
I screamed to my mother over the phone that I had to get off the bus to help. My burst of concern alarmed the medical student sitting in front of me, looking at guts in a textbook.The seats surrounding me looked back to see what I was fussing about. There was no one to help her and I wanted to hoist her to her feet, but my bus kept driving farther away.
Angels.
Angels, I thought. Come.
And out of nowhere, there was a tall man in sneakers and shorts, extending his hand to lift her to her feet. I hadn't seen anyone around within 20 feet of the fall. He came out of nowhere and in this moment I knew how quickly answers come when you ask.
In a frantic state, my plea was answered.
And while I am in transition, from one job to another and looking out into the large abyss of the unknown, I anxiously embrace the mystery of it all. And while I plan my life, life falls before me. The not knowing part would be to anyone, extremely scary and far to great of a risk to give up the job that pays the rent and puts food in our bellies. But today, what is the greater risk, I ask? To fall on my ass, and have the angels lift me to a ground I can confidently and lovingly stand on. I will take that risk.
Love is all around. It is present when we fall on our asses and when we decide how we will react when we are lifted to the ground, by a kind stranger or by the will of our own to keep on keeping on.
When the lady was lifted to her feet, she brushed off the grass surrounding her bottom, and lifted her hands into the air, laughing.
She knows.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Children Know about the Motion of the Ocean and the Wonder of the Waves...and I Look to Them for Light
A young mother with bleached hair and an oversized t-shirt smoked newport cigarettes as she dragged her two-year old across the street to the bus stop where I was waiting to go home. He had a single curl of hair wrapped around his forehead, and a slew of missing teeth. He was barely rolling along, peddling his little toy buggy in a desperate attempt to catch up to his mother. A car was quickly approaching, and thank the heavens she looked up for as second to remind herself that she had a son and that he was in danger. I was about to hobble my way over to him, but after my knee surgery I wasn't sure I was going to make it.
I was enraged. He was barely two and in his matching shorts and shirt, smiled and carried on. I loved him for his laughter midst the chaos and sadness. Once at the bus stop and safe from the street, he picked up a dirtied lottery ticket from the floor and waved it in his mother's direction.
"Mama," he said.
She pushed his arm away, too busy on her phone. Stop, she screamed. Move away, she said.
He walked closer to me. My eyes were glued to him. It was as though an instinct to keep my eye on him kicked in. I was swept in and my compassion kept me going. The bus came, and the mother began to walk on with the stroller. By now the little boy was more than 20 feet away from her, but closer to me. He was safe with me...his buggy and his life was safe for at least a moment. And then his mother sat down near the front of the bus, expecting her child to climb on the bus with his toy and carry it to her. He looked at the enormous gap between the bus doors and the ground...the climb to the platform impossible for a little one.
I could not tell you my shock. I took this moment to wrap him in my arms and carry his toy on with me. I looked at the bus driver, and he gave me a look of complete sadness. We both didn't know what to do. But I carried the little boy to his mother and on our way he smiled to me, and we engaged in a brief exchange of silly faces. He looked at me like I was his only joy. Like the kindness that was his inherent right was all too new for him, and soon to be gone.
I never wanted to let him go. I loved him like the universe loves him. I contemplated running off the bus and taking him into my care. It was a real consideration and a desperate thought. His mother broke the wave of infatuation with her phone and thanked me for remembering her son. I was so angry and appalled by her neglect. But in this moment, compassion emerged in my mind, as difficult and as seemingly impossible it was--I keep on going. I had to end this moment on kindness because if I didn't I would act on rage and fear for him.
From afar I played peek-a-boo with the little boy. His mother hit him for laughing, but we kept going. I held strong for him and didn't look away. His mother became acutely aware of my alarm and began to subside the destructive behavior. Still, what can be done? Do I call the police? My fear kept me frozen but my love for his little life kept me alive.
The bus reached my stop. I had no time left with him. I looked closely at his face and waved goodbye with laughter and light in my heart.
And when I stepped off, and the little boy grew farther and farther out of sight, I began to cry uncontrollably.
It is still hard for me to think about. But beyond this horizon, I find that all I can do is pray for his happiness. All I can do is pray for his mother's happiness, and pray that he is in the universe's hands. I asked for angels to protect him for all of his life and I will continue to think on this, into the night and beyond as I walk around Davis, looking for him.
I will never have a way of knowing how he is, and if his situation will change. But I have hope, and we had love, together, for a three minute bus ride that will forever change my course of action, and my true purpose in life.
The details of this course have yet to be revealed, but that precious little boy has certainly paved a way.
I was enraged. He was barely two and in his matching shorts and shirt, smiled and carried on. I loved him for his laughter midst the chaos and sadness. Once at the bus stop and safe from the street, he picked up a dirtied lottery ticket from the floor and waved it in his mother's direction.
"Mama," he said.
She pushed his arm away, too busy on her phone. Stop, she screamed. Move away, she said.
He walked closer to me. My eyes were glued to him. It was as though an instinct to keep my eye on him kicked in. I was swept in and my compassion kept me going. The bus came, and the mother began to walk on with the stroller. By now the little boy was more than 20 feet away from her, but closer to me. He was safe with me...his buggy and his life was safe for at least a moment. And then his mother sat down near the front of the bus, expecting her child to climb on the bus with his toy and carry it to her. He looked at the enormous gap between the bus doors and the ground...the climb to the platform impossible for a little one.
I could not tell you my shock. I took this moment to wrap him in my arms and carry his toy on with me. I looked at the bus driver, and he gave me a look of complete sadness. We both didn't know what to do. But I carried the little boy to his mother and on our way he smiled to me, and we engaged in a brief exchange of silly faces. He looked at me like I was his only joy. Like the kindness that was his inherent right was all too new for him, and soon to be gone.
I never wanted to let him go. I loved him like the universe loves him. I contemplated running off the bus and taking him into my care. It was a real consideration and a desperate thought. His mother broke the wave of infatuation with her phone and thanked me for remembering her son. I was so angry and appalled by her neglect. But in this moment, compassion emerged in my mind, as difficult and as seemingly impossible it was--I keep on going. I had to end this moment on kindness because if I didn't I would act on rage and fear for him.
From afar I played peek-a-boo with the little boy. His mother hit him for laughing, but we kept going. I held strong for him and didn't look away. His mother became acutely aware of my alarm and began to subside the destructive behavior. Still, what can be done? Do I call the police? My fear kept me frozen but my love for his little life kept me alive.
The bus reached my stop. I had no time left with him. I looked closely at his face and waved goodbye with laughter and light in my heart.
And when I stepped off, and the little boy grew farther and farther out of sight, I began to cry uncontrollably.
It is still hard for me to think about. But beyond this horizon, I find that all I can do is pray for his happiness. All I can do is pray for his mother's happiness, and pray that he is in the universe's hands. I asked for angels to protect him for all of his life and I will continue to think on this, into the night and beyond as I walk around Davis, looking for him.
I will never have a way of knowing how he is, and if his situation will change. But I have hope, and we had love, together, for a three minute bus ride that will forever change my course of action, and my true purpose in life.
The details of this course have yet to be revealed, but that precious little boy has certainly paved a way.
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