I walked down 82nd St. The street where the prostitutes are. Where sex trafficing takes place. Where shootings happen. The street that is as famaliar as the cold-e-sac I grew up on. I thought about how a priority before next fall will be the purchase of an ipod, because after all if I am going to be spending that much time on buses, I want to drown people out and listen to something. Right? I don't know. I have gotten use to life with out one. From that day whe my ipod was stolen in S. Korea. I have to say, I remember much more of the trip without my ipod, becuase I was able to focus on where I was and listen to the sounds around me, and to my thoughts.
I was on the bus today, trying to fill out some Geology packets, watching the druggie lady who really needed a fix, and listen to a conversation in the back of the bus. Andre was telling another young woman about his church, New Directions (which reminded me of Glee, and I got slightly distracted and missed part of the conversation.) She said she had heard of it, and that her friend volunteered there, but they didn't go to church. He told her about how great it was, and that she should come visit. And she said she would. She would go to that church and ask for Andre.
Then Angela got on board. She was a beautiful woman, about my moms age. The bus driver commented on her shoes and how brave she was to walk in her three inch heels. She explained that she had worn those high of shoes for 50 years and why stop now? It was her Sunday best and she was coming from church with her two grandchildren. Andre came to the front and started talking to Angela. He asked her if she were coming from church. She was. He told her about how he needs to go back to church, its been two weeks and that is not good. "Oh thats not good at all!" Angela chimed in, she explained to that honey that he needed to be at church for his well being. And he agreed with his head hung. She told him he neeeded Jesus. He knew. She told him of her church, Immanuel Luthern, and how he should come visit. He said he would. He would go to that church and ask for Angela.
As he depared from the bus, she yelled after him that Jesus loved him. Then she sat there, holding onto her two grandchildren and she prayed for that man. She prayed out loud. She prayed fervently. She prayed with emotion. I wanted to talk to her, I think I should have, but I did not. I didn't know what to say. I wanted her to know that she inspired me. That she was a witness with her life and I could tell it just oozed out of her. What a priviledge for those two kids to spend time with such an amzaing woman. I praised the Lord that there are still good people in this world, and that they are in Portland sharing the gospel.
Last Sunday, it was Easter, and a woman was riding the bus, and standing there as each person got on, reminding them that it was Easter and that our Lord was risen!
Then on the way home, on the max. There was a young mom and her 18 month old son. He was in a stroller and very antsy. They had had a long day, and she was exhausted and needed some help, and a break. He kept trying to get out, and with each wiggle he would irritatingly interupt her precious day dreams that took her away from the dull reality she found herself in. She finally broke and ripped the object from his hands that he had disobediently taken from under the stroller. He cried and them screamed "I HATE YOU." I hardly beileved I heard right. I had to look, and he said it again. Barely understandable because of his young age, but that was most certainly what he said. He said it 29 times inbetween Lloyd center and 60th St. 29 times the toddelr told his mother that he hated her. She just told him to stop, then looked back out the window and ignored him. --- Where on earth did he learn to say that? Why was she taking it? Where was the grandmother Angela?
I prayed for that woman. I was reminded that there are Christians in Portland, and that they are ministering, but there are more, like this young mom, who need to hear.
