We Ain't So Different, You and I

I’m often told that I look a lot like my father.

I bet I’ve heard it thousands of times.

I’ve never really seen the resemblance accept maybe a little bit in a few pictures of each of us.

Sadly now all I have left for comparison are those photos of dad.
And memories of the things he taught me over the years.

In this forum I’ve previously mentioned that dad taught me that if you talk to someone long enough you’re bound to find some connections.

Friends you have in common

Places you’ve both visited.

Or even just traits you share with that person.

Obviously dad wasn’t on the bus yesterday afternoon as I traveled home after a long day at work, but his spirit was.

I quietly read my book as the crowded bus headed west out of downtown Minneapolis when a rather large black woman took the seat next to me.

At first glance we appeared to be direct opposites.
Male/Female.
Black/White.
Large/Small.

Quiet/Talkative.
Literate/Illiterate.

But then we spoke.

Barbra told me about her background.
She’d been raped.
Kidnapped by a social worker (committed?).
She is homeless and unemployed.
She’d like to go into the ministry to share a message of optimism about God’s love.
She’d like to write a book despite the fact that she can’t read (I helped her sound out the words on the cover of my book - and explained what the word ‘culinary’ meant, which reminded her that she was hungry).

She needed help in so many ways, but her top priority at that time was “new” clothes, from the nearest thrift store she could find, since the ones she was wearing smelled bad.

I hadn’t noticed the smell. I’m a bit nasally challenged that way.

I mentioned to her that the Polo Ralph Lauren sport coat I was wearing was purchased at my local Goodwill thrift store.
I mentioned that my dad was a minister and that a dear friend of mine had graduated seminary and been ordained later in life and that she is one of the happiest people I know.
I gave Barbra a card I had for a free Punch Pizza (the nearest one was a few stops ahead on the busline) and we spoke of the type of pizza we each like.
I was able to give her a few bucks that I hope will help her get the new clothes she needs.

I pardoned myself as my stop was approaching.
Barbra thanked me for helping her out and then she blessed me.

I mentioned to her that with that blessing she already was in the ministry.
She smiled and said,
“Hey! You’re right! How about that!”
And then she explained to me that as much as she liked “these”, holding up the gifts I’d handed her, she appreciated the conversation more.
People rarely talk with her.

THAT’S why she wanted to bless me.

Isn’t that what we all want?
Someone to talk to?
Someone to listen?

I told her, “Barbra, we ain’t so different, you and me.”
With that she smiled broadly.

Perhaps dad was right all along; talk to people and find out that we’re not that different.
We may not all look alike, but we’re all pretty similar.

And aren’t we all in the ministry too with how we treat others as we navigate through our days?

Learning valuable life lessons while riding public transportation, who knew?