Doers of Good

Well wasn’t this an interesting morning?

I got into a stranger’s car.

I think we’ve all been taught by our parents not to talk to strangers or go anywhere with them, but this morning I got into a stranger’s car; a smoking, tattooed stranger’s car.

I must have taken too long to fix my hair. Frankly I forgot that I had to do my hair this morning so with the last few minutes I had before I had to leave the house to catch the bus, I hurriedly pulled out the plaits I had put in the night before last, and pinned up the left front side. By the time I was done there were three minutes left for the bus to come to the corner. I had to leave right then.

I grabbed my sweater, told my brother to take his and go to his grandfather, and grabbed the rest of my food for the day with plastic forks and headed straight through the door.

I usually like to check the time as I’m leaving the house to see whether I need to run to the bus stop, or if I have enough time to walk – and how quickly I should. I thought I had enough time this morning so I wasn’t going to check but my worrisome self thought it was best to. Arriving. The bus was coming right then. I needed to run. I did. My eyes were fastened to the corner hoping I wouldn’t see the bus pass right by me. It did. I saw it before it came to the stop, but I was a bit too far away. I waved my free hand, maybe I called out. The bus didn’t stop. Then I definitely yelled out.

Hey! Then damn it!

Couldn’t someone in the bus tell the driver to stop for me? One guy was looking right at me. Damn!

I was still running. Maybe – I don’t know how – I could get it at the next stop. It wasn’t too far away, but it would only work if someone was waiting there. I would catch the bus if it stopped for someone.

Enter the smoking, tattooed stranger in his silver car – nice looking car – asking if I wanted to get to the bus.

Yeah.

Get in.

I took a few more steps to the bus. It was useless. I would never make it. But I couldn’t very well just go into this guy’s car. I couldn’t even see his face properly. He was wearing shades and a cap.

Get in.

I looked to the bus again and let out a sound of frustration.

I went to the car and pulled the door handle. He hadn’t opened it. How was I going to sit anyway? There was a bunch of stuff on the front seat. He was holding them towards him with his hand.

Get in.

It’s not open.

He opened it.

Get in.

I pulled the handle again. It opened this time. I got in and threw a prayer up asking God not to let anything happen to me.

I sat at the edge of the seat and watched the back of the bus as Mr. Sports Car Guy raced up to it. He drove up to the side of the bus and got the driver to stop.

This is one lane, not two. Not exactly what he said but you get it.

She needs to get on the bus.

What?

She needs to get on.

Well then you should have gone ahead of me and let her off first. He meant at the next stop.

That’s what I thought too. I thought that’s what he was going to do.

Whatever. The driver thought Mr. Sports Car Guy was trying to cut him off but he explained that he was just trying to get me on the bus. The driver told him to let me off at the corner ahead.

It was another stop. The bus pulled over (there was someone there anyway) and the car pulled up behind it. Of course I was smiling by now. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I said thanks three times as I was getting out and then said God bless, figuring he wouldn’t mind since it was a Christian song that was blaring from the speakers. He’d been sort of smiling the whole time and be basically nodded his head no problem and let me go. I ran up to the bus – the other person had long gone in – and tapped my card. I waited to tell the driver thanks. He was listening to Mr. Sports Car Guy tell him thanks and say again that he was just helping me get on the bus.

After I said my thanks I took my seat – a little out of breath. I still couldn’t believe it. That guy really just helped my get on the bus. I looked in the line of traffic to see if I could find his car. I wondered if he lived around here. Maybe I would see him again. Maybe he would help me again in the future because he remembered me from today. If I saw him again I probably wouldn’t even recognize him because I didn’t get a good look at him. I was thinking that God was awesome. I told Him that. I was thinking that He had sent that man to help me. It really would have been awful if I had missed that bus. I would definitely have been late for work. I definitely did not want that.

Thanks Mr. Sports Car Guy. I’m going to be on time for work today.

Thanks God. I think that was You.

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