ROADSIDE REST
You can learn a lot on public transport, especially if, like me, you’re a bit of a sticky beak. One of the lessons I am always learning is that you can’t judge a book by its cover. The other day I was on a crowded train heading into the city in peak hour. This was unusual for me because my wife and I live in a small rural community. For most of the people on the train, I am sure the journey was just part of their daily grind. For me, it was a pleasant change.
I suppose that many of the commuters would regard a drive in the country in the same way, whereas we drive thousands of kilometres a year along country roads. Our last bank closed this year. It is now 45km to the nearest branch of anything and a solitary drive can fray your nerves as much as a crowded train carriage. With the drought, kangaroos have been grazing close to the side of the road because there is often a bit of grass left there, even when the paddocks are bare. I’m sure overseas visitors would love to see them; for us, they are a real traffic hazard.
I was curious to notice what people on the train were reading. The results were surprising. A middle aged woman in an immaculate business suit was reading a copy of a rock and roll magazine. Maybe she had borrowed it from her teenage son or daughter to find out something about the latest bands. You have to admire what parents will go through in order to have a decent conversation with their children.
Across the aisle was a young man with more rings in his ear than a telephonist. He was dressed in the kind of clothes I normally put into the rag bag for washing the car. But when I peeked over his shoulder, I noticed he was reading the report of some senate select committee into something or other, which sounded right over my head.
In both cases, I was caught out. I had each of these two people pigeon-holed into watertight categories and then had to think again. I had to laugh at myself.
Coming home in the early afternoon, the train was a lot quieter. I managed to get a seat. The woman across the aisle was loaded up with shopping and I noticed that a number of her parcels came from computer stores. I imagined that she worked in IT and was up with all the latest high tech language and equipment. Then, funnily enough, she opened her leather backpack and pulled out a cheap plastic pair of rosary beads. She looked out the window and began praying quietly and unselfconsciously.
I must confess that I have never said the rosary on a regular basis. That is not to say that prayer is not important to me. It is. I try to make a little time in the morning and evening simply to give thanks for the gift of that day and of what has already happened in my life. I also try to say ‘yes’ to God for whatever might lie ahead. I think over things that have happened recently and I think ahead to what I have to do and where I have to go. Then I pray for a sense of God’s companionship, a reassurance that I do not have to carry all these things on my own.
I have done this for a few years. Funnily enough, that simple kind of prayer always leaves me with a kind of peace and tranquility. Even if I have a lot to do, I make the time to say ‘thanks’ and ‘yes’. It reminds me that my life is part of a bigger picture and that God understands it better than I do myself. I hand some of my anxiety over to God. That has become a real safety valve for me.
I worry about many things. Jesus told Martha that she worried about many things when only one was needed. My problem is that everything seems important to me! Sometimes I feel like I am trying to get on a crowded train with too many parcels. My head and heart both get pretty cluttered. I need a simple kind of spirituality.
That is why the image of someone with plastic rosary beads made me stop
and think. I imagined this woman had found a place to rest her soul in
the middle of a world of bytes and megabytes and web sites and all that.
She both challenged me and filled me with hope.
She also reminded me that, however much technology changes, the need to
take prayer seriously is ancient and profound. It makes us human.
After a time, I noticed the woman was mouthing the start of her Our Fathers and Hail Marys. In my mind, I began finishing them in response. I felt a link with a complete stranger. I was comforted that something so simple can satisfy our hunger.
