I believe in person to person. Every person is Christ for me, and since there is only one Jesus, that person is the one person in the world at that moment. Mother Teresa

It is not ourselves that we proclaim; we proclaim Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants, for Jesus’ sake. For the same God who said, “Out of the darkness let light shine,” has caused his light to shine within us, to give the light of revelation—the revelation of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. 2 Corinthians: 4-6

On Wednesday after I picked the boys up from school, we decided to go on a little field trip downtown. From where we live, which is near the seminary, the downtown area, which houses the main Yale College, is about a mile away. It is easily walkable, but we chose this time to hop on the Yale shuttle to get us there. The Chaplain’s Office is a little, out of the way nook, tucked in the basement of one of the residential colleges. It’s not well marked, and you could easily miss it, but it’s worth visiting if for no other reason than the free ice cream. I may be a respectable mother of three, but I’m also a poor grad student, and free ice cream is free ice cream, if you know what I mean. The boys could hardly decide between chocolate bars, rocket pops, and push-ups. I went straight for the ice cream sandwich! After ponderously making our selections, we headed outside to eat our treats on a little grassy area in the warm New England sun. Afterward we meandered across campus trying to find a shuttle stop to get back home in time for the weekly Berkeley Community Eucharist and dinner.

We piled onto a very crowded shuttle and headed to the back looking for any empty seats. At five in the evening, there were none to be had, but a few people, seeing our small clan and me juggling a wriggling baby, offered up their seats. Seeing that the gentleman sitting next to me was fiddling with his iPhone, Noah said, “Hey, is that the new iPhone?” The man very politely extended his hand to Noah and offered him the phone. It was indeed! Being the tech-guru that Noah is (which is funny, really, since we don’t even own a television), he rattled off all kinds of info about this guy’s phone, while the man and the passengers sitting near us chuckled at the exchange. Noah really is the social ambassador for our family. He ropes us into talking to all sorts of people that we probably never would have occasion to otherwise. This short bus ride and the light repartee between all of us who were otherwise strangers was unexpectedly poignant.

Charmed by Noah’s innocent boldness, the woman sitting on the other side of the man with the iPhone, who, as it happens, is a pediatrician, joined our conversation and remarked on how bright and charming both the boys and Mary Frances seemed to be. Upon finding out that I am a student at the Divinity School, she turned to me and said, “I would have guessed that about you.” I really didn’t know what to say, but I gave a little laugh and continued talking about my program. The pediatrician came to his stop and got off the bus, and the woman and I continued talking—she about her adolescent son, and me about mine. A few streets later, as I rose to exit the bus, this woman very warmly looked me in the face. “Pray for me,” she said, “I have a story.” “I will pray for you,” was all I could muster before heading down the isle. As I descended the first step I looked back at her to say, “Come and find me, I’m at the seminary.” Before the doors closed behind me she shouted across the still full bus, “What’s your name?” Wanting to be certain she heard me, I shouted back and then quickly stepped to the sidewalk.

This brief interaction—the interplay between Noah and the man, the amusement of the onlookers, and the simple words of the woman whose name I never even got—stirred something inside of me. I prayed for the un-named woman, for her unknown story, and for the hope that we’d meet again. And I thanked God for such a simple revelation of grace. Amen.