This week I’m introducing Half Baked. This is a phrase I use to describe an idea, or sometimes a constellation of ideas that may hang out together but don’t fully form a cohesive concept or in this case, blog post. It will appear every now and again, when I’ve got something to share that doesn’t quite fit anywhere else.
Running for the Bus
Not long ago I was waiting at a stop sign to make a right turn onto a busy thoroughfare. The first lane into which I could turn was a bus lane, and glancing up the street, I saw the bus coming. It was the start of the work day, so there were many people already gathered at the stop. But as I looked up the street toward the bus, something caught my eye. More than a block away, running full speed, was a person.
Now, the bus, even in morning traffic, was moving considerably faster than the person was. And I quickly made the person out to be a woman, dressed in full work wear–skirt, heels, briefcase, and jacket. And she was running.
It was the morning rush hour, but the bus easily overtook her as she continued to run full-0ut, giving it everything she had. The bus lumbered across the intersection where I sat, alternately looking right to left, like a spectator at a tennis match, hoping against hope that the woman would make her bus.
To the right, I saw the bus lurch to a stop, open its doors, and begin to board passengers. To the left, I looked to see the woman, running as quickly as she could, closing the gap with every step. Finally, the last passenger was boarding, and I saw the woman almost at the cross-walk, fewer than 20 yards from the bus, which was now fully boarded.
I hoped that the bus driver had seen her. That they would wait for the 10 seconds it would take for her to get to the doors before they closed. I patiently waited at the stop sign as she zipped across the street in front of me, and got to the doors of the bus just as the driver had jerked the doors closed. She stood for a split second, breathing heavily, briefcase askew, and hung her head in what looked like defeat.
“OOOOOOooh NOOOOoo!” I thought. “I will drive her to the next stop if I have to…she has to be let on!” And as that thought came and went through my brain, the doors of the bus jerked open and her whole body relaxed with relief. She took the steps up onto the bus, the doors closed, and the day commenced.
But here’s what I was thinking of. I was thinking of how much work it can be to make the things happen that we so hope for. I was thinking that the idea of hoping or praying is only half of the equation. That you’ve got to hope and pray AND run your ass off all at the same time.
The hard work of it is part of the process. Putting your heart in and working towards the thing we so desire is part of what it means to have faith that it will or can happen. That woman didn’t have to run. She could have shrugged two blocks before and given up on the idea that the bus would wait. There will, after all, be another one. She could have decided to not risk failing in the first place. But instead, she ran.
The fact is, she also didn’t have to catch it. She could have run full-speed and the doors could have remained closed. But like Lyle Lovett said, “What would you be if you didn’t even try?” And so she had to try.
Sometimes when we want something for ourselves or those we love, there is nothing more to do than to hold them in our hearts, send love, and hope that things get better. But sometimes, there is a bus just ahead of us, and if we are willing to put ourselves on the line, we may catch it. The doors just might swing open. Hold hope, and run as fast as you can.