Miracle on the Bus – Part 3 of 3

Miracle on the Bus – Part 3 of 3

(Passengers names are changed)

For those of you who may not be aware, when I ride West to East on my Harley it takes

two days to get through BC; one day through Alberta; one day through Sask and Manitoba and four whole days to Ottawa on the far side of Ontario. Some passengers were jumping for joy when we got to Thunder Bay, ON thinking that we were near Ottawa. I felt honour-bound to burst their bubble by announcing that we had five great Lakes and the Georgian Bay to get around before we would see Ottawa.

Thunder Bay ON was a major dinner and rest stop. Our bus was driven away from the Station temporarily for a thorough cleaning. During that time we waited on the platform outside. A loud obnoxious drunk circulated among the passengers. He slurred his words and had to steady himself by leaning on lamp-posts and garbage cans to remain upright. He was rude and offensive. I struck up a conversation with a quiet guy who was not saying very much and mostly kept to himself. He was, however, covered from head to toe with tattoos. His name was Gaston. I suggested that we go inside away from the drunk. Despite Gaston's horribly tattooed body he seemed OK. He even had a compassionate look about him. He lived in Thunder Bay with his girlfriend but he was going to visit his kids and ex-wife in Quebec for Christmas. He spoke about his ex-wife with no malice whatsoever. In fact, she had bought him a bus ticket to enable him to spend Christmas with her and the kids. Sadly, Gaston had recently been discharged from the Canadian Forces for having his face tattooed. I didn't ask how his girlfriend felt about him going to see his kids and ex-wife. I didn't want to open that door. The big drunk came stumbling in, really sloshed, and began to ask people for money to make a phone call. He approached me and I told him to get lost. He asked Gaston for money and I was surprised when he replied with an apology. He said that he was very sorry but he didn't have any money. All he had was a bus ticket. I asked Gaston when did he last have something to eat and he said yesterday. I told him that I was going to get a meal and would he care to join me – my treat. He accepted with thanks.

Somewhere near Nipigon on the north coast of Lake Superior we stopped at the side of the road. There was no bus stop but more than a dozen people waited to get on board. We were full to capacity. I was shocked when the driver helped them come aboard. They were Mennonite families returning from their place of worship and they sat anywhere they could but mostly in the centre aisle from the front of the bus right to the very back. Some passengers offered their seats to Mennonite mothers with babies and young children. I offered to give up my seat to a Mennonite family of a mother and four little kids even though I knew it was highly illegal and it broke all the safety rules in the book. But... all that became inconsequential when one young Mennonite girl began humming quietly – “Silent Night, Holy Night” ....and that's when the miracle began.

Her humming changed into words when her friend joined in. The whole bus seemed to go dead-quiet. Passengers put their Android devices and other anti-social gadgets away and they slowly began to join in and sing along too. Heads began to turn around and people began to actually see the faces of those around them. People began to acknowledge each other and smile. Soon, everyone had joined in the carol singing except those that were sleeping. “Away In A Manger, no Crib for a Bed” came next. I was moved. I was, in fact, deeply touched by what was unfolding in front of my eyes. Strangers were actually bonding with other strangers in friendship and fellowship regardless of their station in life or what faith or creed they followed. I suffered a cold shiver thinking that I might be turning into a Liberal but it passed quickly - thank God. We were no longer a bus full of misfits. We were a brethren. “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” was sung in all its glory, and lastly, my personal favourite “Ava Maria” brought the carol-singing to a close. It was time for our Mennonite friends to leave.

There was no formal bus stop but many passengers had to get off first in order to make room for the Mennonites to disembark safely. Outside in the snow, strangers shook hands with strangers; some hugged and wished each other “Merry Christmas”. Daisy with the nose-ring and her girlfriend came to give me a hug. Charles shook my hand and offered me a pair of jungle earrings as a gift but I declined with thanks. Gaston embraced me and wished me a Merry Christmas and even the shady guy in the red cap shook my hand and almost broke it. This was wonderful; this was true fellowship and it all began with a child humming a Christmas carol. This was the miracle of Christmas. You would never see this on an Airbus 330.

The next wonderful thing that happened was when we disembarked at the Bus Station in Ottawa. It was so crowded that I couldn't see anyone but I did hear two Angels saying a joyful “Hi Papa”. It was my daughter and granddaughter across the crowded room. I threw my arms around them. I told them that I had wonderful stories to tell them about the Miracle Bus. Would I do it all again?....you bet I would.

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