Tears on the Street

Regardless of the time in Bangkok the traffic is heavy on the streets. At the end of a work day, as people return to their homes, never is a statement so true. Just yesterday our family, visiting Bangkok for the day, were in a taxi. We were exhausted. We were ready to get onto the bus that would return us to our home an hour and a half away in Photharam. It was already dark and we were stopped at traffic lights. Ahead of me I saw the tail lights coming from four or five lanes of traffic. Then in amongst the cars Mackenzie (who was on my lap in the front) and I saw a young girl. She was selling something at the car windows. As she got closer we could see that she was selling a single white flower wrapped in a small piece of banana leaf. I admired such a little entrepreneur and I decided that I would buy one, when and if, she came past our taxi. It was a while before she did and so I felt the pressure of the pending change of lights when she approached our taxi. I proceeded (in a rushed manner) to wind down the window. But, when the window was down we did not find a sassy little entrepreneur but a young Thai face, about 9 years of age, with tears streaking her brown skin. I saw fear in her brown eyes. I was taken aback. Perhaps she had been forced out into the lanes of Bangkok traffic at the end of the day to make enough money for her family to eat that evening. Perhaps she made money for someone else and would never benefit from the money made. We didn’t know her story. We knew in that instant though that she was scared and sad. I was more panicked now and in my simple Thai asked her how much the flowers were and she was unable to respond. Until now I had not realized that my bag was twisted up in the seat belt making it hard to access. I felt around in one pocket and found some coins, I put them into her small brown hand and she handed me three flowers. I tried to hand back two, but she insisted. The light changed and off we went. I couldn’t talk. Kenzie couldn’t talk. We just sat there overwhelmed. Mackenzie then said ‘Why did you rush mummy?’ I said sadly that I wish I hadn’t rushed but had allowed the taxi to sit there in the traffic while I found a more substantial amount of money. ‘Never… rush… again… mum…ok,’ was Kenzie’s slow, sad and thoughtful reply.

I long to live as Christ lived, yet I fall short so often. I am reminded that Jesus kept his pace slow. He stopped for Zaccheus up a tree. He stopped for the woman at the well. He stopped his teaching and fed the crowds. He stopped for children and brought them to his chest. He stopped for the Centurian, the bleeding woman, the thief on the cross. He stopped for questions, sickness and feasts. He stopped for perfume to be poured on his feet. He stopped to embrace and be embraced. He stopped to cry and listen to tears. There is a similar need for his followers to stop today. There is need for mercy all around us. Be it Australia, Thailand or America. We can’t rush by people. That was my lesson this week….maybe it can be for you also?