The Bus Run

The Bus Run

Welcome to Christianity Oasis. This is The Bus Run from our Sojourn With Luz Leigh Collection. We hope you enjoy this enlightening reading and it helps you on your own be-YOU-tiful Christian walk.

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Sojourn With Luz Leigh

The Bus Run

Written by Luz Leigh - 12 February 2010

Did you ever wonder why people, especially women, seem to be in such a great rush to get somewhere? This question goes through my mind each time I do the "bus run." That is my term for making a trip to the local junior high to pick up one of my granddaughters.

School dismisses at 3:05 p.m. Mothers begin lining up to pick up their little darlings as early as 2:40 p.m. so they can be FIRST in line. They sit there with their big gas-guzzling SUVs idling while they talk on their cell phones. The vehicles are new models; few are older than 3 years. Then I drive up about 3:05 p.m. to get in line. Not hard to spot me. I'm the one driving a fourteen year old family ride that is paid for ... the car with the little Jack-in-the-box head on the radio antennae so I can find my car easily when I leave it on a crowded parking lot at WallyWorld.

Oh, here comes a yellow dragon (school bus) trying to make his way up to the loading area. Poor driver has to compete with about twenty mommas. I sit quietly on a side street that leads to the campus and watch the circus. It takes about five minutes for the last vehicle in line to move to the area where the students are waiting. I take a book to read in case the line is extremely long. And wouldn't you know it? One of those anxious mommas pulls right up to my back bumper and begins honking her horn when I don't move forward and try to wedge in the line. I look up in the rear view mirror and then give her a big wave, like she's a long lost friend ... and return to my book.

Finally, I make my way to the area where Krissy and her neighbor Taylor are waiting for me. As I look at all those new vehicles, I wonder if Krissy is embarrassed by my old clunker. Doesn't seem to bother her one bit; she smiles as she hops in the front seat, saying "Hi, Granny Bee." Taylor, on the other hand, looks like she had rather sink into a hole in the ground, but I suppose she had rather ride than walk.

I really should not refer to my Sable as a clunker. I take good care of my car; have it serviced on a regular basis and it gets washed and vacuumed often. It has no dents or rust spots. But, it is OLD. But, then so am I. And like I said, it's paid for; been mine free and clear for almost twelve years now.

We arrive at Taylor's driveway; she slides out without a word. Next stop is Krissy's back door. As she gathers her backpack, jacket, flute and whatever else the child is lugging around that day, she gives me that dimpled smile, and says, "Thanks, Granny Bee."

If it bothers her to ride in an ancient car, she does not show it. Unlike me. When I was that age, my daddy had a pickup truck that was about ten years old and I was mortified when he would drive me to school. I would ride my bike many days, weather permitting, just so I would not have to ride in that old truck. Looking back, I should have realized I was fortunate. Very few of the kids' parents drove them to school. They were forced to ride the yellow dragon or walk.

I'm thankful my grandchildren (and there are others besides Krissy) don't seem to care about the age of my car. They seem more concerned about how much gas I have in the tank and if there is any money in my purse with which to buy burgers and fries.

God is good.

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