Another story from the Number 33 bus ride.
This morning I sat near a woman who was reading Marley and Me, the memoir of a dog owner that has been a national bestseller for some time. Those of you who have read the book know that there is a very poignant and sad part to it. I could tell, looking over the woman’s shoulder, that she had reached this part. She began to sniffle. She would look up frequently from the book, look around to see if anyone was watching, then return to the chapter, only to stop a minute later. Tears were welling in her eyes.
What would Jesus do?
I must admit I felt the temptation to put my hand on her shoulder, to say some words of comfort, or at least to acknowledge that I’d felt the same when reading that chapter, and that being moved at someone’s grief is no shame.
In the end, I did nothing. I turned away to look out the bus window at the Seattle skyline, and pressed play on the iPod. New Order captured my mood:
Why won’t you answer me
I can’t recall the day that I last heard from you
Well you don’t get a town like this for nothing
So here’s what you’ve got to do
You work your way to the top of the world
Then you break your life in two