The bus stop

I've been waiting for 23 years and 2 months (and counting) for my bus to arrive. I'm not getting any younger you know. Tick tock! I'm waiting at my bus stop. So many buses have come past me, they've stopped, hooted at me, asked if I needed a lift I but I've refused each time. Big buses, small buses fancy, average, local, the works. They didn't appeal to me so I chose to rather wait for "the one". But after a while of standing in the scorching sun, and miserable rain, in dust, hail and wind I started to grow impatient.
Tired and drained, I watched my friends, relatives and my high school juniors (abomination!) Slowly leave the bus stop and happily board their buses. I watched people I thought little of find buses. In shame I'd wave goodbye and watch them set off in the golden sunset wrapped in happiness and joy. It made me nauseus looking at their success in love coz I was far from it. After watching people I waited with slowly leave eventually they were all gone and I was alone. Wiery and weak I started to tell myself that any bus or any mode of transport for that matter was better than waiting for a bus I had no guarantee would come. I didn't want to be seen years later STILL at the same bus stop alone and destitute never! *pronounced neffa*. I knew my bus was going to be a custom made state of the art bus with my name and number on it. Hand picked by Yahweh himself. It would have a number that God created for Pops and Pops alone.

But I got desperate because I thought God had forgotten me. I thought that he had a lot of people to hook up so I might have fallen through the cracks and my name was lost.
So I began losing focus in the name of loneliness, started to settle for mediocrity because I thought solitude was not my portion. I started seeing the once hideous bright orange Putco buses as nice. I stooped so low as to think the intercape was attractive. I found the pocket friendly SA roadlink classy even though I knew God had a bigger plan for me.

So one day while picking my nose, biting my nails and counting pavement blocks at my bus stop, a car stopped in front of me. It seemed to know me, it looked posh and had an awesome sound system. The mags were on point rims 19 inches and the seats were white leather. An import from Italy. I said Italy. It was so beautiful and from outside it looked perfect for me. It made me look good. Or vice versa. Either way...same thang! Before I could even ask God about it I was already in and half way to my destination. Having the time of my life I forgot all about God, I let go of all that I knew God told me to with my life, to wait. So, I was finally in a car and not alone anymore, that was more than enough for me.

After a while, once the adrenalin had worn off and I could see again, I took the time to look at the interior of the car. To get to know who I was with. From outside it was thee car. But the inside, was tattered, damaged and untidy. At first I ignored it because I thought I'd be the one to fix, mend and polish him up. I thought I knew how.

I thought we were going towards the same direction the same destination at the same speed. Only to find I was going East while he was taking me to the West. In a panick I asked him to take me back to the bus stop because I had made a mistake. He said no.
I begged and pleaded. He refused. He showed me a side of himself I didn't know. Afraid I jumped out, took a leap of faith and left. I watched him drive off with my self repect and dignity. I let him...

I walked and walked, in tears and alone. The walk of shame was long and dry. Trying to find my bus stop, trying to discover exactly who I was before I got into the wrong car. I started to pray.

It was then that I heard God's footsteps. I felt him walk next to me. In the sun he was shelter, in the cold warmth. Sand storm, my protector.
The journey was long. Painful yet healing, sad yet joyous. I saw God.

Finally, I found my bus stop. Buses still came by, but never did I enter. I chose patience.

One day perfection stopped at my bus stop. He was beautiful. Asked if I needed a lift, his bus wasn't what I expected but his interior was golden. Brand new engen, double exhaust with modest yet stylish rims. He asked for my hand I stepped back and examined him. Sceptical I asked boldly if he had room for Jesus too.
With an uncommon pride he smiled and replied "Jesus is the driver".