I Met Jesus at the Bus Stop

     I arrived at the hotel just in time to check in and run down to catch a bus to the Mall of America.  I was visiting the Twin Cities and had decided to venture out on my own.  This was new for me and I was a bit worried about going out into the city alone at night.  I hurried out of the elevator and went straight to the front desk.  “Where do I catch bus 54 to the Mall of America?” I asked when the young woman looked up at me.     “Out this door and to your left, the stop with the T on top.”  She barely looked at me as she waved her arm in the direction of the door. she failed to mention that I needed to take another left at the end of the block.       I arrived at the bus stop short of breath and worried that I had missed the 6:33 pick up bound for the Mall of America.  I was also a little wary of being out on the streets of St. Paul after dark; locals have told me that it isn’t a very smart thing to do.  I shivered from the cold damp air that funneled down the street.  Puddles of newly melted snow reflected the street lights despite the dirt that floated in them.  Faded receipts and gum wrappers tumbled along the street as if looking for a place to hide.  The tall stone buildings held dark doorways and black hole alleys; these I scanned often in hopes that no one would step out of them.       It soon appeared as though I had missed the bus.  One bus sat there and it was not a member of the T line.  Standing nearby a couple chatted happily in Spanish and I wondered if I were to ask them if the bus had already come if they would understand me.  I made a mental note to take a Spanish course soon.  I chose to wait it out for the next bus.  Five minutes passed and then ten minutes.  I began to pace and look up the street in hopes of catching a glimpse of a bus from the T line, bus 54 to be exact.  The next one was due in five minutes.       Suddenly a young woman passed by on the sidewalk behind me.  She was half skipping, half walking and her wild, curly, strawberry blonde hair bounced as she moved down the street.  I turned to look at her and we smiled at each other.  A few yards down the street she stopped, turned around and came back.  She came directly up to me.  The woman bent down a bit to look me in the eye and her face broke into a huge smile, her eyes sparkled merrily.  She asked, “Are you going to the Mall of America?”     Startled, I asked, “What?”  I had heard her but my mind was busy; it was telling me to be careful.     Still grinning happily she bobbed her head and asked again, “Are you going to the Mall of America?”       “Oh!  I’m sorry,” I said.  “Yes, I am.”  I couldn’t help but smile back.      “The bus doesn’t come here,” she looked a little serious now and pointed down the road in the direction I had come, “over there, that is where it comes.”       My eyes followed the direction she had pointed in and I was amazed to see on the next corner a bus stop also with the T on top of the sheltered waiting area.  Stupidly I asked, “Are you sure?”  My mind was asking me why I had not noticed that stop before.     Her face lit up again and she looked at me as though I was a child and nodded vigorously, “Come with me I’ll take you there.”  She started up the street half skipping, half walking.  “We have to hurry,” she called over her shoulder.   I noticed on the back of her worn and dirty, pale blue jacket, someone had written, Baby J, in black marker.  The name seemed to fit; there was something about her trusting and helpful nature that reminded me of a child.  I ran to catch up with her and she looked pleased.       We arrived at the bus stop as two buses pulled up and people burst out of the doors creating an exciting atmosphere in the bright lights of the dark city night.  “I will be right back,” she said, “Will that be okay?”     I nodded and said, “Yes.  Thank you for your help.”  A man nearby leaned up against the building, looked us up and down and glared disapprovingly.   I shrugged it off and turned away; he must be coming from the hotel also and heading to the Mall of America.  His clothes were clean, his hair cut and washed and his face had a close shave. I was sure if I were closer I’d probably smell cologne.  He seemed out of place in the city night and I thought how I must have also, as I was wearing my white coat with white fur trim, black slacks and heels.  I suddenly felt protective of Baby J.  I hadn’t liked the condescending look he shot us.  The look made me feel dirty and cheap. What a creep, I thought to myself.     I looked down the street in the direction Baby J had gone and saw her coming out of a building with a couple of people who appeared to be friends.  They chatted excitedly for a few moments and then her friends headed down the street and she came skipping back to me.  “Is it okay if I go to my stop?  Will you be okay?”  I must have looked surprised because I had really thought she was heading to the mall also.   I was uncomfortable out alone and my first reaction was to keep her there.     “You aren’t going to the Mall of America?” I asked.       “No,” she shook her head setting her wild curls to bounce again.  “I will stay with you though to make sure you get on the bus okay.”     “Okay,” I hurriedly said, selfishly relieved that I wasn’t left with all these people I didn’t know.  I glanced down the street in the direction her friends had gone.  A bus pulled up to a stop a block away.  “Where are you going?” I asked.     “To St. Paul Avenue,” she said.     “Is that your bus?” I felt a pang of guilt and urgency.    “Yes,” she smiled.     “I’m sorry!  You go, don’t miss your bus!”  I gave her arm a little push.     “Are you sure you will be okay?”     I smiled big now and said, “Yes, I will be fine.”  A warmness washed over my insides and I was suddenly sure that I would be just that, okay.     She smiled for the last time and called over her shoulder, “Have fun at the Mall of America!”     “Thanks for your help,” I yelled back; I watched her run down the street as she waved to her friends.  I should have given her some money for her help, I thought as I watched her get on her bus.  I looked down at the sidewalk, as I thought to myself, strange that the young woman who is paid to help people at the front desk barely had time for my question.  But standing at this bus stop, and sure that I was in the right spot, along came a young woman who took me to where I needed to be without my even asking.   I later thought about the letters on the back of her jacket, Baby J; the J, I decided, stood for Jesus and how he works in others, even those we would not expect.