Bus ride reflections

The weekend before last was Victoria's infamous Symphony Splash.  Each year, to celebrate BC Day, Victoria's symphony plays a free concert for the city.  And it's not just any concert.  It's a concert played in the Inner Harbor... from a barge.  Canoes, kayaks, and little motor boats crowd around the barge for front row seats.  Lawn chairs line the Inner Harbor side walk for the next-best view.  And those of us that don't spend Sunday reserving space for ourselves spread blankets over the lawn of the Parliament buildings. 

I loved it! The music was great, as expected; but I'm not really a classical music person.  The part that I liked best was the crowd.  I love crowds.  I love walking around in them, I love rubbing shoulders with strangers, and I love feeling part of something much, much bigger than myself.    

Anyway, I'm not really writing to tell you about Symphony Splash.  I'm writing to tell you about an interaction I had afterwards.  Because I didn't want to worry about parking, and because I can't tow Joseph on my bike yet, the bus was my best option for getting to and from downtown.  I wanted to get home before dark, so we left at intermission. After leaving the crowd behind at the Inner Harbor, we found ourselves in the midst of another crowd at the Douglas and Fort bus stop.  I guess a lot of people had the same idea.   

In case you're not used to hanging out at bus stops, I should tell you something about bus stop culture:  typically no one talks to anyone at bus stops.  Especially if there is a crowd and especially if you are downtown, people seem to stay in their own, private zone.  Rather than person-to-person interaction, ear buds and iphones and newspapers and trashy romance novels are the preferred bus stop-activities.

Unless of course you have a baby with you.

Since having Joseph, I have never experienced more small talk with strangers in my entire life.  Countless Victorians want to say "congratulations", find out his name, and hear how old he is.  There may be occasions when I prefer my ear buds and iphone and personal space, but for the most part, I welcome and delight in the opportunity to converse with my fellow bus riders.

The night of Symphony Splash was no exception, and I'm exceedingly thankful.  An older, heavy-set gentleman wanted to take a peak at my sleeping babe, and in no time I was being peppered with questions.  He was wearing a ball cap and a navy t-shirt tucked carefully into his jeans.  His eyes were big and round and attentive, and his child-like nature made me feel at ease and happy.  "Is your baby a boy or girl?" "What did you name him?" "Did you know that the name Joseph is in the Bible?" "Are you happy your baby is a boy, or did you want a girl?"  "What would you have named your baby if it was a girl?" "How has he been sleeping?"  "How has he been growing?" "What do you think he thinks about?" 

And then the real doozy: "What have you been learning?"

Good question. 

Great question.  

Here's my attempt at an answer:

I've been learning about flexibility.  Most of those who know me know that I'm a person who thrives on routine and structure.  Having Joseph in my life has loosened me from my rigidity.  While I will always prefer routine, I've now dealt with numerous surprise feedings, unexpected diaper changes, and nights with unpredictable sleeping patterns.  No, my world has not ended every time my carefully planned schedule or to-do list has been disrupted... and that has been an important realization.

I've been learning about sacrifice.  This learning began with childbirth, when I had to work harder than I ever had before in order to push Joseph into the world.  This learning continued through the early stages of breastfeeding when I had to deal with the awfulness of cracking, bleeding nipples for the sake of Joseph's nourishment.  And this learning seems to go on and on, for example, every time I have to forgo precious, longed-for social time and get to a quiet place so that some need of Joseph's can be tended to in the way it needs to be.   

I've been learning about gratitude.  Dave, Joseph, and I have been profoundly blessed by many people in the last several months, especially people in our church community.  Never before have I written out so many thank-you cards!  As much as I used to have a bit of an anti-thank-you-card attitude ("Why can't my verbal thank-you be enough?", I'd say), the exercise of formally expressing my gratitude has been really, really good.  It's been a spiritual discipline of sorts.  I've learned that profound blessing deserves a profound attempt at giving thanks. 

Sadly, instead of saying all that to this lovely gentleman, I responded with something quick and cliche about how I've been learning about how to function with much less sleep.  Not that learning how to survive on less sleep is wrong, but, as you can see, there has been much more going on than that.  I began thinking about it as the bus drove me home from Symphony Splash, and I continue to think about it a week later.  If that gentleman and I are ever at some crowded bus stop together again, and if, at that time, we both find ourselves without our ear buds and iphones, I hope we find each other... so we can talk some more.