Learnig life's lessons

Warning:  This is not a happy, sweet post.  It's a little raw and rough, a reminder that I live in a big city.  It's very edited, but don't read it if you want to feel all happy inside.  I'm writing it because I need to get it out and I haven't found a better forum.


Yesterday I got out of my 4:30 class and decided to go home instead of straight to church for FHE (since I don't have a car, it usually makes more sense to just go to church on Mon/Wed nights). That meant that I was traveling on the T during rush hour traffic, with a lot more people than normal.  Got on at my usual stop, picked a car, sat down in an empty seat (it's toward the beginning of the line so there were empty seats), settled in the for ride home. I had happened to sit beside a young boy on one side, but I didn't really notice that.

A couple of stops later my attention was sharply called by a commotion a yard or two away. Two seats down from me was a woman who had her shopping bag on the seat beside her. At the stop some crazy, hard-looking guy got on our car, walked directly over to the woman (there were other empty seats, let me tell you), and grabbed her bag and threw it to the floor while telling her she had to share the seat.  Didn't ask and then do it, just did it.  It was like he was looking for a fight.  And he got it.  They began yelling at each other.  He was calling her foul names and she was swearing back at him.  Finally she told him if he called her one that one more time he'd get what for.  So he did, of course, and she was out of her seat after him. 

Enter the boy beside me, who I still hadn't noticed until that point.  As the woman rose, he reached up and grabbed her shirt, trying weakly to get her to not fight.  I realized with a shock that the woman must be his mom. His attempts failed and soon the man and woman were physically fighting on the floor in front of us.  At this point I have not idea what to do, so I do nothing in the few seconds they're fighting.  Fortunately, another woman came over, pulled the man off, sent him down the car, told the woman to get up.  "You can't be doing that," she said, "you have a son."  Nice woman makes sure everyone is sitting on opposite sides of the aisle and heads back up the car.  (We'll come back to her.)

And I am watching the boy.  He was shaking so hard I could see it.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I realized that he probably wanted to be invisible and me giving him attention wouldn't help.  But I just could not sit there doing nothing as I watched the pain.  So I patted him on the back and told him it was okay.  Asked what stop they were getting off at.  Tried to make a little small talk.  If nothing else, it made the mom notice him and she talked to him and paid some attention to him as they traveled along.  In the fighting his backpack got broken and he kept pulling on the broken handle over and over and over. As well as rubbing his legs and otherwise showing his extreme agitation. 

The boy was very, very thin (as was the mom).  I could see this by looking, but when I touch his back--even though a jean jacket--I could feel the bones.  He told me he's in 7th grade.  I can only imagine what his life is like on a daily basis.  But the pain, the pain he was in was tangible.  I tried so hard not to, but once while they were sitting there and once after they left I just sat there and cried. 

The man, with bloody scratches on his face and a ripped shirt now--he probably has an awful life, but he asked for what he got that day.  The woman--she made her own choices.  But that boy, he didn't make choices.  He's just suffering from others' and it still hurts me.  I can't think about it too hard or I'll cry some more.  You know it's one thing to read about children living like that.  It's another to hear people recount them to you in a safe environment.  But it's a whole other thing to feel the anguish seeping through as your shoulders touch.

And I felt like such a soft, weak person compared to that boy who kept it (almost) all bottled in while I cried.

I was grateful for the testimony that I've shared several times lately that Christ heals; he can heal anything.  But discouraged, because so many people don't know him so they can go be healed.

The other lesson from this, which I intend to remember fully, was from the woman who broke up the fight.  When the fight started--since I was right there for all of this, it was obvious that it would start--we all sat there unsure what to do.  I mean, we don't exactly want to be drawn into it and beat up ourselves.  And since everything escalates in a matter of seconds, you really have to know ahead of time what you'll do.  It's not exactly a time for deliberation.  And I didn't know, didn't know.  But even while watching the good Samaritan woman, and then later thinking about it, I was reminded of the power of confidence.  People respect you when you act like you're in charge.  Simple as that. I know this from being a teacher, being a sister, being other places where I think--why in the world is anyone listening to me?  And sometimes those situations can be nerve-racking. But you don't let on and people usually do what you tell them.  Which is exactly what this lady did.  That man or woman could have taken her down, but she acted like she had authority and they obeyed.  I can do that; I most definitely have it in me.  So next time, I'll know what to do.  Thank you, lady, for all you did yesterday not least of which was helping me know how I can help in the future.

And one last thought: I realize that thinks like this happen everywhere, not just in the big city.  It's just that on public transportation in the city you don't always get to stay in your little bubble of happiness and security; you actually rub shoulders with others' realities.  Which is, oddly enough, why I love it.

Don't worry, I'll write a nice post one of these days.