Flowers on a Bus

For I rejoiced greatly when the brothers came and testified to your truth, as indeed you are walking in the truth. I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. Beloved, it is a faithful thing you do in all your efforts for these brothers, strangers as they are, who testified to your love before the church. You will do well to send them on their journey in a manner worthy of God. For they have gone out for the sake of the name, accepting nothing from the Gentiles. Therefore we ought to support people like these, that we may be fellow workers for the truth. (3 John 1:3-8 ESV).

They were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily with their collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch. One of the passengers was a small gray man who took the bus to the center for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him. Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent. The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice: "And a very good morning to you all!" Some of them looked up, amazed, and murmured "Good morning," in reply. The following weeks they were more alert. Their friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to them every day and they gradually began to nod and talk to each other. One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked: "Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?" They never got to know if his name really was "Charlie", but he nodded shyly and said yes. The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat. Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly: "Here." Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper. The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn't waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn't there the next day and the day after that, they started wondering if he was sick or, hopefully, on holiday somewhere. When they came nearer to the center for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. They all held their breaths when she went to the door. Yes, the staff said, they knew whom they were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn't been coming to the center that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent they were the rest of the way to work. The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more gray, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrunk again. Inside the bus was a silence akin to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all them, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with their eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in their hands. You see, they had come to understand how to truly be a friend in a time of need.

Perhaps there’s someone riding your “bus” today who needs a friend. Look for them and walk with them today.