When Hashem Seems to Pass You By: A Lesson in Faith From a Bus Stop

One Saturday night, I was returning home from the sheva brachot celebration of one of my nieces. I waited for the bus, which according to the schedule should already have arrived, but I ended up waiting another 20 minutes.

When the bus finally arrived, another bus on the same route pulled up right behind it. The first bus stopped, while the second continued past the stop. I boarded and found a seat. The luggage compartment was so full that I had to bring my suitcase onto the bus with me. At the next stop, our bus drove straight past while the second bus stopped.

The Bus That Wouldn’t Stop

Which brings me to the point of the story. It turned out that the stop where I had boarded was the last stop our bus would make. From that moment on, the driver simply passed every stop, leaving people standing there in disbelief, waving their arms as if to say, “Hey! We’re here!” while the bus sailed past them as though they were invisible.

I sank into my seat. I could hardly believe what I was watching. It was already after 11:00 at night. Dozens of people were waiting at the stops, some holding children in their arms, while our bus simply passed them by.

In those moments, they did not know that another bus was coming just one minute behind us. When it arrived, they would probably understand. They would realize that our bus was full, that the driver knew another bus was right behind him, and that no one had forgotten them.

If Only They Knew

If they had known another bus was on the way, they would have been calm. They may have even been relieved that there would be a bus with enough room for them. They would have understood that someone had thought about them.

I could imagine their frustration. They were probably angry, complaining about the bus company, the drivers, the service, and everything else they could think of. All because they did not know what was going to happen one minute later.

I wanted to shout through the window, “Wait! There’s another bus right behind us!” I wanted them to know so that they would feel better. I wished the driver could have stopped for just a moment to let them know.

Once we left the city and I stopped thinking about all those people standing at the bus stops, convinced they had missed their ride, another thought came to me: this is sometimes what our experience with Hashem feels like.

When Hashem Seems to Pass Us By

There are times when it seems as though Hashem is “passing us by.” It can feel as though He is not listening, as though He is overlooking us, or even, God forbid, as though He does not care. But of course there is a plan waiting for us. It may be a matter of a minute, a year, or a decade. We do not know. But He certainly does.

He sees us standing at the bus stop, waving our arms and calling out, “Please don’t pass me by. I’m here!” And sometimes the bus still keeps going, because He knows there is another one coming behind it, one with more room, one that may ultimately be better for us.

Sometimes I wish Hashem would simply stop the bus for a moment, open the door, and say, “My daughter, I know it’s late. I know you’re tired. I know you want to get home. I know you still have an email to send to thousands of people tonight, that you won’t be home before 12:30, that a pile of laundry is waiting for you, and that you hate standing outside waiting. There simply isn’t enough room on this bus, and I don’t want you standing for the entire journey. Wait just a little longer. Another bus is coming, and it is exactly right for you. I know. I’m in charge of the drivers.”

The Hard Part Is Not Knowing

Wouldn’t life be easier if we knew the Divine plan? If we understood why certain things go wrong, why others are delayed, why plans change, why things break down, and why something we desperately want simply does not happen?

Perhaps the point is to accept that we will not always know.

We keep waving our arms and calling out to Hashem to notice us and finally send what we are waiting for: the bus, the job, the money, the shidduch, the health, the happiness, physical healing, emotional healing, strength, clarity. “Please send it already. It’s late. We’re tired. We don’t have the strength anymore.”

And still, the door does not open. Not yet. Perhaps because Hashem knows there is another plan, one that we cannot see from where we are standing. Our challenge is to believe even when we do not know what, when, how, where, or how much.

What We Never See

At least this time, I was sitting on the first bus and could watch the scenario unfold from the other side. I could just as easily have been one of the people standing at the stop, getting angry as the bus passed me, only to discover a minute later that another one was coming. But this time, Hashem spared me that frustration. And for that, I am grateful.

Who knows how many other times He has spared me from things far more difficult and complicated, without even realizing that I should be grateful?

I don’t know about you, but I do not always manage to hold on to the absolute faith that everything is ultimately for my good, that everything is being arranged in the best possible way for me, and that when something feels painful now, there may be something good ahead that I simply cannot see yet.

A Reminder to Myself

Today, for a moment, I saw the idea clearly and simply. And I wrote this for myself, as a reminder. Because there are several things in my own life about which I would very much like Hashem to tell me what He has planned, as I am beginning to lose patience.

I need strength too for this journey we call life. Perhaps the insight that came to me on that bus, the one I wrote down for myself, can bring a little comfort to your heart as well. Perhaps it can give you the strength to remain at the stop a little longer and wait for the bus that is right for you.

We are not angels. We are human beings. And perhaps that is exactly what faith is: trusting even when we cannot yet see what is coming.

May we merit to look back one day and see how everything we thought we had missed, everything that slipped away, passed us by, went wrong, or fell apart, was ultimately leading us exactly where we needed to go.

I’m right there with you, waiting at the stop.