|
Sand Dollar: Archives Index
|
Subscribe
|
|
| << March09, 2004 - Sand Dollar: The Room |
March15, 2004 - Sand Dollar: A Battery of Angels, Ginger Boda >> |
|
Good Morning, Doves Friday, March 11, 2004 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Bus Ride Instead of driving around the country, in car, I decided to take a bus. The common quote was, "Take the bus. Leave the driving to us." Well, that' s what I decided to do, even though I do not like buses. Once getting on the bus, I found a seat in the back to relax and enjoy the trip. I departed on the bus, in the early part of the afternoon, so I could look out the window ~ watching the scenery as we went rolling by. I happened to be looking ahead and saw a jackrabbit scampering, as fast as he could, to reach his hole in the ground ~ to escape the buzzard flying above, as it began to dive down after its prey. Seeing that the rabbit made it safely to his hole, the buzzard soared skyward again. I thought how funny it would have been if the buzzard had come too close to the ground to go back up. He would have made a belly landing and skidded across the rocky ground, feathers flying everywhere. I must have been laughing out loud 'cause, as I looked back around to the front of the bus, people were staring at me as if I were on drugs or something. Acting unconcerned, I just looked back out the window again ... in time to see a hitchhiker with a note pinned to his back. It read, "New York or bust." Waving to him as he went by, I thought, "By the time he gets there, he will have to turn around and come back, as he will be busted." About two miles further down the road, I noticed a couple hitchhikers sitting under an overpass. It was a nice place to sit with the hot sun beating down. Their sign said, "California, here we come." Noticing their shoes had holes in them, I wondered how long they had been trying to get to California. If their shoes were any indication, it must have been months of walking. Talk about blow-outs, they had plenty! By now, people on the bus thought I was crazy. I was laughing so loud, there were tears in my eyes. Oh, well, I was enjoying myself for a change. A few miles further down the road and two hours later, the bus took a detour. I thought it was going to a terminal, or another stop, somewhere. Boy, was I wrong! As we made the turn, a sign read, "HEAVEN," with a directional arrow. Sitting up to take notice of what was happening; I thought it would be just another little town in Texas. Wrong, again. A few miles further, another sign, in bold letters, read, "WELCOME TO HEAVEN." This was becoming a serious situation. My clothes were wrinkled and I needed a shave. I told myself that I was being stupid, that this was just another town not on the map. Up ahead, I could see bright lights, as if the sun was just coming up. We were on a street called, "STREET OF SADNESS." All of the passengers were looking out the windows, now, and we could see people crying. For whatever reason, we did not know. They were crying so loud we could hear them inside the bus, with the windows closed .. . a weird feeling, I might add. A few blocks farther, the driver turned the bus, again. This street was called, "STREET OF DESIRE." The guys started whistling at the women, standing on the curb, and they, in turn, waved back to us. The women, on the bus, had their turn at whistling and waving to the guys. The guys on the bus starting booing. The bus, once again, turned onto another street. It was called, "STREET OF EVIL." Here, we saw killings, beatings, and riots. We even saw young kids with knives and guns. This made me hope that my kids were not doing this. The further we went down the street, the light got brighter. A chubby sort of a man, with a big book in his hand, got on board the bus. With his soft spoken voice, he called out our names. When he called mine, I slowly raised my hand. He said, "My name is St. Peter and I welcome you on this tour. What you've seen, outside, are the sins in your world, today. In here, there are none. Look around as you go through. Enjoy yourself. There will be someone waiting, at the end of your tour, to talk with you." While slowly raising my hand, I asked, "Sir, did this bus make a wrong turn or something?" St. Peter answered, "No. Every road ends up here." Today, this bus just happened to be on the road that we chose to visit. With that, he left the bus. The passengers were bewildered. As we continued down the street, I noticed it was named, "STREET OF GOLD." The street glistened; no tire marks, no foot prints, not even a piece of trash was lying around. The bus did not stop long enough to see if the street was paved with gold. Looking out my window, I could see children playing and laughing. Others were just walking about. Funny though, there were no elderly people here (all were young); no wheel chairs, walking canes, crutches, or even a blind person. Everyone was dressed in white. As we got near the end of the street the bus stopped, the door opened, and CHRIST, OUR LORD, stepped on board. He opened His arms wide, smiled, and said, " FOR SOME OF YOU, THIS WILL BE YOUR HOME. FOR OTHERS, YOU'LL BE WITH THOSE OUTSIDE. YOU MUST MAKE YOUR OWN WAY IN LIFE. NO MATTER WHICH WAY YOU GO, I STILL LOVE YOU." With that, He started stepping down from the bus, turned back around, and, with tears in his eyes, said, "I FORGIVE EASILY." The door on the bus closed, the gate opened, and we departed. Just outside the gates, we were back, at our turn off, to go to the terminal. Everyone was talking about what just happened. I said to myself, "This is one bus ride I did enjoy." ?© 1994 by Robert H. Gilbert, Jr. RGBLUEBOY@aol.com http://www.geocities.com/rgblueboy/StoryPoetryPage.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ May your day be richly blessed. Go and spread 'good will and peace', as does the dove in the legend of the Sand Dollar. Bob Johnston Sand Dollar Publisher Minneapolis, Minnesota USA *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** Important Subscription Information: To subscribe: visit the Sand Dollar page at www.ripplemaker.com or send a message to Bob@Ripplemaker.com with "Subscribe" in the subject. Please include your name and state & country of residence. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To cancel your subscription, send a message to Bob@Ripplemaker.com with " Cancel Sand Dollar" in the subject. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ write to Bob@Ripplemaker.com Minneapolis |
|
| << March09, 2004 - Sand Dollar: The Room |
March15, 2004 - Sand Dollar: A Battery of Angels, Ginger Boda >> |
|
Sand Dollar: Archives Index
|
Subscribe
|
|
|
Archives powered by Zinester's Mailing List Service
Details on Sand Dollar: |
Browse for more newsletters at Zinester's Ezine Directory
Managed by Zinester's Mailing List Management |