The Bus Stop Hitchhiker

During my commute home, I saw a woman hitchhiking.

At a bus stop.

It was as though she had no idea she was standing in a designated, covered location where a bus would stop multiple times each day. Others were waiting for the bus, as well, and they were watching her with much curiosity. I could practically hear their thoughts.

“What is she doing?”

“Is she waiting for the bus, or for someone else?”

“Is this a joke?”

“Am I on Candid Camera?”

Seven strangers milled about, checking their watches, their purses and their backpacks. Each observed her for a second here, another second there. None of them spoke, but they were all connected in a strange, twilight-zone-ish kind of way.

If she was waiting for the bus, the hitchhiking was amusing, yet clearly unnecessary. Did she know it would get there when it got there? She might’ve been ready for it, but it obviously wasn’t quite ready for her.

Hm. Such is the case in life sometimes, yes?

Sometimes we think we’re ready to be picked up by something. Maybe we think we’re ready for a significant other, a new job, a new city, for some travel, for anything that can be life-changing. But if it’s not ready, then we can stick our thumb out all we want — we might be doing that for a while, though. When your better half is ready, you’ll know it. When the job is right, it will become known. When you’re meant to be with something or part of something, all the waiting will seem silly, because we’ll know that things don’t happen in our time — they happen when the traffic clears, when the weather allows it to arrive, when it’s time. Anything else will be forced, and anything else will be premature.

Tonight I am thankful to the hitchhiker at the bus stop for the inadvertent reminder to be patient, to keep my thumb tucked and to know that when the bus comes along that I’m supposed to be on, it will be very, very clear.

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