As I sit here on this train, in Thailand, I begin to people-watch, as I always do. The trains here are similar to the local bus transportation in the States. There are people from all walks of life present here. I see three soldiers, not much older than the high-school and youth-group students I am familiar with back home. I wonder how they got here. “What’s your story?,” I think. “Do you know what you’re fighting for, or is this just your next best option?” I have no answers.
In the seat across from them is an old man, also in a government-issued uniform jacket. This man gives off homeless, disabled, and/or poor vibes. “Where did you get your jacket?”, I wonder. “Were you a soldier once upon a time? Did you just buy it? Maybe it was given to you. What’s your story?”
A group of middle-aged women clump together in the seats diagonal from me. It seems they’re on the way to work. This is a long train ride. I ask myself, “Do you take this route daily? Are you merely visiting somewhere? What do you ladies do to earn a living? What’s your story?”
An older man in a Chicago Bulls hat and gold-chain necklace sits in front of me. He’s tired. He sleeps the whole time. He’s definitely worked hard in his lifetime. His skin is weathered like leather. “Where are you headed?”, I want to know. “Why? What’s your story?”
Ladies of old and young men with tattoos roam the aisles selling different types of food—noodles, fruits, nuts, meats. “Is this something you do every day? Do you live in town? Do you have dreams? What’s your story?” I ponder these thoughts for a good portion of my ride.
Life is a funny thing. It doesn’t matter where you are, everything is all the same. The people are all the same. We all have our own stories, and we’re all headed somewhere. Everyone’s trajectory is set ever-so-slightly differently. Do you ever wonder how many of God’s children you’ll see in your lifetime? I think about it often. Do you ever talk to any of the random people you see? I want to be someone who talks to people, people I don’t know. I want to be interruptible. Not just by other people, but by myself. I stand in my own way most of the time and just stay in the comfort zone of my own seat and headphones, patiently awaiting my destination. (Side note: I not only live my physical life this way, but I often live my spiritual life this way as well—just waiting for God to show up) I want to know, “Why do I choose not to talk to the people around me?” One encounter could make all of the difference in someone’s life, mine included. Will you be brave? I certainly want to be more so.
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Flash forward to the train ride home:
I am hot and sweaty. I just hiked a rather large mountain, in 97-degree weather, with 46% humidity. I smell terribly. My friends and I are placed in three different train cars. I am pooped. I sit down. Five minutes after I get comfortable, one of the train attendants brings me a tray full of food that I was not expecting. Right as I go to open the food, a little, older Thai woman says, “Excuse me!” and gestures to sit next to me. I readjust everything to let her in. She is is so sweet and smiley, but clearly speaks no English. So, I put my headphones in, begin eating, and open my Bible. As I’m reading and praying, I notice the woman is rubbing Jade stones all over her body. I watch her and wonder. I see her bracelets, one Jade of course, one amethyst, and one I’m not sure of, but admire. My mind instantly compares her to the adorable grandmother in Mulan—“beads of Jade for beauty, you must proudly show…” I begin to sing in my head. I’ve heard of this practice, rubbing stones on your body for different reasons. I want to ask her about it. “Do the Jade stones actually help your beauty regimen?” I don’t ask. I know if I do, she won’t understand. I try anyway. I gesture to her and say, “Jade?” She just smiles, laughs, and nods. I ask her, “What do they do?” She doesn’t understand. I turn back to reading. She instantly falls asleep.
Hours later, we’re getting ready to approach our destination in maybe 20-30 minutes. The woman wakes up. She is so beautiful to me. I want to tell her. I pull out Google translate, on my phone, and tell her how beautiful she is. Again, she smiles, nods, and laughs. She says, “Thank you!” in the sweetest voice. We begin conversing through translate and after all of two minutes she pulls off the black-stone bracelet I was internally admiring and gives it to me. I am taken aback! I say, “No! It’s too beautiful, I can’t!” She says, “No! Gift. Me to you.” Just the absolute sweetest interaction. I tell her that she reminds me of my grandmother, and she smiles. I tell her that Jesus sent me an angel through her, and she just gets so happy, clutches her heart, and says, “Thank you! Thank you!” I ask her if she has children and she pulls out her phone and shows them to me, a boy (26) and a girl (34). We continue to chat, and she asks the train attendant how many more stops until we will arrive at my destination. She asks for my phone number, so I ask her if she has What’s App or Facebook. Of course she doesn’t! So, I take her number and tell her that I won’t be able to talk with her until June, due to my lack of service abroad.
Who knows if I’ll ever be able to chat with her again. I pray so. Based on her reaction to my comment, I wonder if she believes in Jesus. I pray so. I don’t know what that interaction meant to her. But I know, for me, she showed me an act of kindness that I’ll never forget. Hebrews 13:2 tells us “not to neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware.” I know for a fact God sent her to me for that moment. Courage and boldness are two areas that I have asked for growth in, and God sent me an angel to practice with. God is good, and we are all His children. He will show up when we seek, ask, and knock. The question is, “will you be brave enough to talk to strangers?”
