The Church Bus

The old bus takes a while to warm up before it can move. It has been on the road for many years now. The engine is tired. So is the driver. But every day, he cranks it up and gets it moving again.

The seats are worn, and the bus rattles when it gets above a certain speed. The driver tries to avoid the bumps and potholes because too many rough patches can send the passengers bouncing out of their seats. Still, they hold on, and most of them cherish the ride.

The driver thinks he knows where he is going. Every morning, before he gets behind the wheel, he prays that he is taking the right route. Bus routes seem to change quickly these days. The routes of yesterday simply do not work any longer. You must be willing to travel some new roads and make some unexpected turns.

But new roads and sudden turns do not always go well with the driver—or the passengers.

A voice comes from the back.

“This is my stop.”

The driver slows down and pulls to the side. A weary, sometimes frustrated passenger makes their way toward the door. They may mumble to themselves as they depart without saying a word to anyone. Some stop to tell the driver that he does not know what he is doing or where he is going. Others complain about somebody else on the bus before they leave.

Sometimes several passengers get off at the same stop, clearly upset about the entire experience and already talking about finding a new bus to board.

The bus is emptier now.

This bus, like many others, has carried fewer passengers for some time. There are faster ways to get around and seemingly better things to do than ride an old bus. The passengers know it. The driver knows it.

But they love their bus.

They have tried to make it better. They improved the seating. They added better sound and lighting. They cleaned it up and painted the faded places. Still, it is difficult for an old bus to compete with everything else traveling along the road.

The bus continues to make its stops. Occasionally, someone waves it down and asks to get on. Some newcomers stay for a long time and become part of the journey. Others ride for only a short distance before getting off again.

There are plenty of seats from which to choose. The passengers are spread throughout the bus, each one sitting in the same familiar seat they have occupied for years. No one seems eager to move closer together. It is difficult to give up a seat that has formed itself so perfectly around you.

Suddenly, the bus comes to a stop.

Smoke billows from beneath the hood.

It has broken down again, but it is old, and old buses are always breaking down. The passengers who know it best climb out, raise the hood, and try to determine what has gone wrong. The driver explains the problem to everyone. Someone passes a hat, and once again they collect enough money to purchase the needed part.

A short time later, the engine turns over, and the bus is back on the road. The journey continues.

But there is a newly vacant seat. A flower has been placed upon it.

Since the last trip, one of the passengers has not returned—not because they did not want to, but because they could not. The previous ride was their final one.

They will be missed.

Like many others before them, their bus-riding days are over, but they are not forgotten. Empty bus seats are difficult. Each one holds a story from another time. Each one is a reminder of what once was—and of what may never be again.

One of the youngest riders pulls out her snack bag. She has a pack of crackers and a grape soda.

You are not supposed to eat on the bus. There is even a sign that says so.

She asks the driver for permission.

“Nobody really enforces that anymore,” he says.

Delighted, the little girl, who likes to sit directly behind the driver, opens her crackers and soda. Bus rides can be long for little ones.

Before taking a bite, however, she thinks about the other passengers. She leans over the seat of the oldest rider, who often sleeps through much of the journey, gently awakens him, and asks, “Would you like a cracker and a sip?”

Startled from what must have been a sentimental dream, the old man accepts both.

The girl nods for him to pass them along.

Soon, the grape soda and the package of crackers are making their way down the aisle. Each passenger takes a little and passes the simple offering to the next person. Eventually, what remains returns to the little girl. She carries the final piece of cracker and the last sip of soda to the driver.

He accepts his portion as he brings the bus to a stop.

They have completed the route.

The driver looks at the passengers. There are a few new riders among them, and he smiles. But there are also passengers who are no longer on the bus, and he feels the tears gathering in his eyes.

“That’s all for today,” he says.

The passengers begin to leave, but not before exchanging handshakes and hugs—more of the latter than the former.

It was actually a good ride.

The driver closes the door after the final passenger steps off. Everyone is gone now. The bus is quiet. He sits alone for a moment, thinking about the roads they traveled, the passengers they lost, the newcomers they welcomed, and the simple meal they shared along the way.

Then he turns off the lights.

Tomorrow, he will return, climb behind the wheel, say another prayer, and warm up the old bus once again.