Being Christian

I love to travel. You never know what adventures await.

Once I was returning from Kanyakumari, India, to Delhi, where I was to board a bus to Jaipur. I reached Delhi and, the following morning, got onto the bus bound for Jaipur. The weather had been warm, and the bus was not as comfortable as I had hoped.

Seated opposite me were a mother and her young son.

The mother was busy on her mobile phone, and the son was left to entertain himself. He tried to get his mother’s attention, but sadly, it seemed the mobile phone was more tempting than the company of her ten-year-old son. The bus was moving at a tremendous speed, and I must say, the bus driver was driving somewhat recklessly.

Many times I felt my heart skip a beat.

The sudden jerks caused by his slamming the brakes were enough to make anyone dizzy. It proved to be too much for the boy, and he threw up.

Oh mercy! You can imagine the smell. The other passengers made faces, changed seats, and so on. To my surprise, the mother, too, started to scold the poor child.

I knew she felt embarrassed. I saw the dilemma she was in. I wondered how to be of help to this mother and her child. Fortunately, I had lots of newspapers with me that I had used to wrap some breakable items. Unwrapping them meant risking them being broken. But I felt clearing the mess was more important. I spread the newspaper on the mess, and it did help. The people came back to their seats. Some offered paper wrappings if they had any.

One old lady blessed me and placed her hand on my head.

The bus finally reached its destination, and I disembarked. The woman whom I had helped was waiting for me outside the bus, and she asked me, “Are you a Christian?” I was not entirely sure why she wanted to know, but it taught me an important lesson: Christians ought to be different. People should be able to tell we are Christians by the way we love and treat others. Since then, I have always tried to be kind and helpful.

Dear Father, help me to always be kind and compassionate to my fellow beings.

Rita Gill