The Bus Stops Here

My car broke down several months ago on the way back from visiting a close cousin. Because of the high cost to repair it, it’s been sitting in a shop ever since—and probably will for another four months. So, for the time being, I am officially vehiculess. (A term Tracy actually coined almost 20 years ago. I think she cursed me.)

But I haven’t let it get me down. I’ve fully embraced public transportation as my new way of getting around. And yes, there’s plenty to complain about when it comes to riding the bus. I could write paragraphs. But that’s not what this is about. What I’ve realized is that this unexpected inconvenience has been quietly teaching me—and I’m genuinely grateful for the lessons.

Today, as I sat on a bench in the hot sun, waiting, I was thankful for even the smallest breeze. I tilted my little droid phone into the shade to double-check that I was, in fact, at the right stop to get home.

While I was sitting there, a man in a suit approached and asked how far away Lake Mead and Rainbow were.

“Quite a ways,” I said. “I wouldn’t walk it.”

I pulled up a map on my phone so he could see where we were. He nodded and said he might walk it anyway, but I told him the bus should be arriving soon—it might be worth the wait.

Now, I may not be the most outgoing person in the world, but I do carry the Lane family gift for gab. As we waited, we got to talking.

He told me he was from El Salvador. His wife and six-year-old daughter were still there. He was on his way to look for a second job—trying to save enough money to bring them to the United States legally. In order to maintain his path to citizenship, he had to stay in the U.S. for six months and one day out of every year. That meant he couldn’t go home for long and couldn’t take on permanent jobs if he wanted to visit his family. He could only afford one trip back per year. Back and forth wasn’t an option.

He didn’t have much in terms of possessions, but he spoke with unwavering gratitude. He told me how thankful he was to Heavenly Father for his health, for work, and for the opportunity to build a better life. He believed—truly believed—that God was taking care of him.

He was one of the most genuinely grateful people I’ve ever met. And one of the happiest. No surprise there—those two things often travel together.

When the bus finally came, we boarded. A few minutes later, another man who had paid cash for his ride turned to my new friend and offered him the rest of his bus pass.

“I won’t be needing it anymore,” he said, and handed it over.

That quiet kindness nearly undid me.

We see people struggling and feel sorry for them—and yes, many of them carry more weight than they should have to. But in moments like this, I realize they often carry something else too. Something I envy. They’ve learned how to be happy.

And maybe that’s the real secret: happiness doesn’t come from having everything—it comes from being grateful for what you already have.

Miss Marissa

(I don't have your updated email, but know you stop here occasionally.)
What's up? I haven't talked to you in so long? do you still have your blog--I can't find it if you do. I miss reading it. How is everything in your neck of the woods?

We in Vegas again. :( Oh well, life is treating us good and we can't complain. Hope all is well. Would love to have an update.

Mommy and Madi Time

I worried about Madison feeling left behind, but it was all for naught. She has such self-esteem I believe she thinks the boys had to go away so that she could be the princess for a day. I let her choose what she wanted to do. Friday night, we painted finger nails. Then, took a bus to McDonald's. We could have walked there faster, but she was insistent on taking the bus. She thought public transit was the coolest thing she has ever discovered.
We rode the bus back home--even though I tried to convince her to walk. She talked to everyone on the bus and even shared her cookies. She would giggle when the bus would start moving because she was so delighted being on it. That night, we watched a Barbie movie we had previously rented from Netflix and saved for this night. She wanted to do more, but I told her the night was over (I was pooped) and it was time to go to bed so we could have another fun day tomorrow.
In the morning we went yard-selling with Grandma. I french-braided her hair into two pigtails. It was the first time I have ever done that for her. She thought it was awesome. She got bored of yard sales easily, though she scored a free Hello Kitty mirror compact and got a Lai Hawaiian necklace for only ten cents.
We got home--and again she wanted to ride the bus--to Chuck E. Cheese. After getting there she ran around and played, but decided it wasn't as fun without her boys. Not that she wanted to leave, just didn't spend nearly as many tokens. After trying several flavors of soda, she decided rootbeer is her favorite. A guy there was encouraging kids to follow him for free tickets. When they all gathered around them, he told them to do the dance he was doing. Madi did it for awhile, then abruptly walked away. I caught up to her and said, what's the matter? Why did you quit? She said, "It's not worth it." By the time got home, the boys were bathed and tired. They all shared stories about each others adventures and both wanted to do what the other did. Dad and I were tired. Tired, but content. Our children are beautiful.

More Pics

coo

Fathers and Sons

What a great plan to have all of the dads and boys go on a campout! It gave me treasured time to spend one-on-one with Madi...but I'll talk about that later. This is all about the boys. All of what I am about to tell you is hearsay, as I was not actually there. So, I'll do the best I can to document the tale.
They left on Friday afternoon. Brant actually took the whole day off work so that he could get prepared. He is way over-compulsive sometimes, but if they would have gotten stranded at the campground for a week--they would have lived well.
The boys spent at least a week before talking about the camp out and how excited they were to go. I think that started the momentum. They set up the tent all by themselves. And though Brant was prepared, he forgot to buy "D" batteries for the pump, ergo, no air mattress. They roughed it on the ground. Needless to say, Brant didn't sleep much.
The boys immediately made friends with a group of older boys. Brant said the kids thought our boys were so cool. (I have to agree and totally get their cool factor.) They fish in Lake Lindsay--which is a catch and release--so they took pictures to prove their work. Worms weren't doing much. The boys suggested hotdogs, simply because that's what they would want if they were fish. Surprisingly, it worked remarkably.
They swam in the lake and were carefully guarded by the Bishops daughter, who was serving as a life guard. It's the first time in their lives they were speechless. As soon as she tried to talk to them, they clamored behind Brant. He said they thought she was too pretty to talk to. How do they already get that at their age?
They roasted hot dogs and marshmellows and had a grand time. They told Brant they wanted to move there and that their grandma, mom, and Madi could come and visit them.
The flashlight fashioned around Lane's chest is because he is Iron Man. (Iron Man has a light on his chest.)




What

I am not a girl

I was telling all of the kids yesterday that Jake and Amber had their new baby girl, Ashtyn Arianna Lane. When I said the name Lane said, "What! That's my name and I am not a girl." I tried to explain to him that my name used to be Lane before I got married. He said that it couldn't be my name because it is a boys name--he is a boy--duh! Then I told him that everyone in my family had the last name Lane and that is how he got his name. He said, "They can't have my name. That's my name and I am not a girl." As Lane would say, "He is so much funny."