|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
Room for One More There are many things for which I have come to be thankful during my short stay in El Salvador. Among the most obvious: toilet paper, padded pews, air conditioning, and insect-less (for lack of a better word) buildings. But one of the most missed items is my personal vehicle. Oh, how I miss my little Mazda! Now, all my friends know that I hate to drive. Whenever we go somewhere and they offer to drive, I gladly relinquish the privilege. The hatred stems from the fact, perhaps, that for five years I had to commute to school and work in horrendous traffic during my college days. Nevertheless, before going to El Salvador, I told people how heavenly it would be to not have to drive. O, that my lips had been sealed! Just a little Shakespearean-style lamentation to show what a fiasco our transportation is here. For example, red lights mean nothing in this country! The biggest vehicle has the right-of-way! The primary mode of transportation is by bus. There are two types of buses: one is what we think of as the “regular” bus and the other is called a “microbus” (pronounced ME-CROW-BOOSE). The microbus is about the size of a minivan, and every inch of available space inside is used. After a long day of working, one can only imagine the aroma that emanates from the buses and microbuses. As small as the microbus is, there are usually upward of 25 people on board at any one time. No matter how crowded the microbus is, there always seems to be enough room for one more. I am continually amazed at how one more person can always fit into the microbus. And then at the next stop, one more person gets in. And then at the next stop… you get the picture. One thing that I like about Salvadorans is the fact that they always have room for one more person. On a bus, in a restaurant, on a bench, sleeping at a house, or at a church, no matter where you are, and no matter how crowded it is, there is always room for one more. And after that, there is room for one more. There are no limits here concerning this concept. I attend a church here called Centro Vida. They have four services on Sunday, as well as services on three other days during the week. They live by the notion that “there is room for one more in our church.” What a lesson this has been! Sometimes in the states, in our churches, and ultimately, in our lives, we do not leave room for one more. We actually have the room, but we do not recognize the need. This is not solely a spiritual concept, but, of course, my main point is concerning souls. We must reach out to souls. We must invite them to sit on “our” pew. We must sit with them at the restaurant. We must solicit their company in our homes. Anywhere we could go, there must be room for them to go, too. I Corinthians 11 says that we are not our own and that we are bought with a price—“…Therefore, glorify in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s.” We must live by the concept that we are not our own, and thus, by the same token, all that we have is not our own. Surely we can push aside our menial things to make room for one more soul. A soul. We must realize that a soul is more important on any day than 25-30 people in a microbus. I am glad that fifteen years ago the Lord said, “Come on, Rani, there’s room for one more.” I hope that I can live the rest of my days consistently saying, “Of course, my friend, there’s always room for one more. There’s always room for you.”
ninetyandnine.com © 2003, Rani Coleman --------- Rani Coleman has vowed never to own a mini-van that would even remotely remind her of the smell of the microbuses. Her fiancé is more than likely lamenting this fact as he reads this, as he has talked of having a microbus full of kids. |
|
|
