Humanity, Pt.1

This is likely going to be a multi-entry post.

There is simply too much to comment on over these past few days for me to write it all tonight.  It is 10 past 10 on Friday night.  Our full school week has come to a close...and I really just want to go to sleep...but, I need to get started on writing this all down, if only for my sake.

After school, the kids clamored home.  The girls (Magpie 10, The Bug 8, Potato 6 & Brownie 6) and I decided to hike to the bus stop for a trip to our major shopping center area some 30 minutes away.  As it was Friday, we were prepared for the conditions on the bus to be jammed and uncomfortable.  The reality did not refute our expectations. 

The girls found their way to little spots just big enough for them on the standing room only transportation.  I stood in the middle of the aisle...my arms repeatedly going numb from having to grasp the bars high above my head for balance.  Reminding the girls to keep their knees slightly bent and their feet a bit apart for balance we rode along.  I marveled at in year 3 here, that the children were totally unfazed by the situation.  Magpie was cracking jokes, Brownie was busy chatting up some gawkers, Potato was singing a song, and The Bug eagerly dramatized the daily school events.  This sort of scene in year one would have had 2 or 3 of them in tears, one struggling with car sickness...and me feeling totally overwhelmed.

The lady next to me in the bus, in her black polyester work pants and pumps, was loudly voicing her opinion of the overcrowded bus and directing the driver NOT to stop at anymore stops as she contended that no one else could get on anyway.

I felt it before I processed what it was...her hand...placed on the upper right side of my back.    She used me a bit for balance, but was quite comfortable, though never having even made eye contact with me...resting her hand on my back.  Instantly we were connected through that touch and I began to ponder our different cultures.

Here it is not uncommon to see male students from primary school through college to literally be hanging on each other...in a way that back There would make come "uncomfortable" with what might be interpreted as a public display of affection between a same-sex pairing.  In my English class, just this week, while I was conducting a Spelling Bee, I saw two of my fifth grade boys pleasantly holding hands...united in friendship and camaraderie.

A trip outside of our home virtually guarantees that someone, or multiple someones, will reach out and touch us.  Our kids are constantly poked, pinched, and stroked by absolutely anyone in proximity. 

I am a "touchy" sort of person, so it doesn't really make me that uncomfortable...but after awhile...you realize that here, in this mass of humanity and within this culture there simply is no concept of "personal space."

Even so, this evening I was struck at how unusual it was for me to be touched intentionally with an open hand on my back for a prolonged period of time.  I didn't find it unpleasant, I found it inclusive...that while on every occasion people notice us as "foreigners"...this women treated me like anyone else on the bus, and she touched me with no regard of my foreign status.  I felt warmed.

After pressing through the hordes at the ATM machine, submerging ourselves into the 90 degree-year-round-no-ventilation shopping mall...we made our way through a Walmart-type store to buy milk.  Real cows milk is very hard to find...and so we go to great effort every two weeks or so to travel to where they sell it.  When we buy six or more bottles of it, they look at us like we're from Mars.

We packed our little rolling shopping cart (I never go anywhere without it now) and decided we'd head out for the 2 block or so walk to the special pizza place in our area.  To make the trek we have to climb several flights of stairs to cross the massive intersections involved, but the evening was lovely, and we've developed  a great appreciation for the pedestrian lifestyle so we cheerfully walked on.

I've written in the past about seeing beggars in this area where we shop.  Often on these pedestrian overpasses the poor will hunker down, usually with a sign that tells of their dire situation...and a cup in front of them to receive any change a passerby might throw their way.  All to often for us we see adults who would have been the children of the "special needs adoption" lists of today.  Missing a limb, blind or partially blind, club feet, and other visible special needs set them apart as "unlucky"... and ashamed...

Every time we see someone begging, especially those with special needs, we pray for them and give to them.  This reality for those with special needs is a driving force for us, hoping for the day when we can alleviate some suffering...to meet the needs of those who are the "least of these."

We were carrying on our merry way over the pedestrian overpass when out of the corner of my eye I saw them...

A woman in a dirty red sweater, with a baby on her lap.  He was about 8 months old.   As I looked back I realized that he had a unrepaired cleft in his lip.  On the left side.

At first we walked past, then stopped to prepare a monetary gift to give to her.  Something to slip into her calloused hands to show her that we were compassionate to her plight.  Magpie did so...and as we turned to walk away...my spirit was so quickened... stirred that I couldn't take another step.  I was sure that that HS wanted me not to only feel compassion, to give monetarily...but to take it further...to be a conduit of His love right there, in that midst of humanity.

I turned around, walked back to her, squatted down and with throngs of ever increasing numbers of curious souls straining to see what the commotion was about...began one of the most powerful exchanges with a fellow human I've ever had...