The Church Bus

Many years ago, in a Kansas town, the minister of a friendly local church wanted to make it easier for certain people to attend church on Sunday mornings. Reverend Smith thought it would be a great idea for the church to buy a used school bus that could be driven around the community to pick up those who did not have a way of getting to church on Sunday morning. Some senior citizens did not own a car and some parents could not drive their children to Sunday school.

So Reverend Smith visited with members of the congregation to share his exciting idea with them. He hoped that others would agree that having a church bus was a great idea. And, sure enough, many people of the church thought it would be a good thing for the Sunday school program and for the community. The Board of Trustees agreed and approved enough money to purchase a bus.

Very soon after, unbeknownst to him, Reverend Smith would find the perfect bus. There had been a school bus in a tiny community not far away that had carried students to and from school for a long time. Eventually, the poor community saved enough money to buy a brand new bus. The old bus was parked way back in the corner of a gravel parking lot under a big elm tree where it sat alone for over a year. Dust and leaves covered the roof and hood of the bus and one of its front tires had gone flat, leaving it looking very sad indeed.

One day, in a coffee shop, Reverend Smith met an old fellow named Mr. Gibbs who was a retired bus driver from that nearby community. As they talked, Mr. Gibbs spoke with pride about his days as a school bus driver. Tears came to the old man’s eyes as he told how his favorite bus had been abandoned in the corner of a parking lot. He had driven it when it was new and had taken good care of it all through the years. When the old bus needed to be replaced with a new one, it was also time for Mr. Gibbs to retire.

Through the first summer, fall, winter, and spring days of retirement, Mr. Gibbs had taken his dog, Buster, for long walks in both morning and afternoon. Buster was a black and white Boston Terrier. He was a small, happy dog. Their walks always took them around by the school and past the dusty parking lot out back where the old bus was parked. And as they passed by, Mr. Gibbs would often talk to Buster, telling him about the bus and many of the students who once rode with him.

Reverend Smith listened intently as the old man talked. Could the bus of which the old driver spoke be a good bus for the church? He thanked Mr. Gibbs for his time and said he would drive out there to the nearby community to take a look at the bus. Mr. Gibbs smiled and said he thought that was a very good idea.

Arriving at the school, Reverend Smith saw how pitiful the old bus looked and wondered if such a bus would be a good choice for the church. The paint was faded and the windshield was cracked. But he recalled Mr. Gibbs’ words and knew the bus had always been driven carefully by him. And Reverend Smith knew a good bargain when he saw one. So he wrote a letter to the school administrator of the tiny community requesting permission to purchase the bus for a very small price. His request was granted.

Soon, on a Saturday morning in early September, three men from Reverend Smith’s church drove out to check on the bus and prepare it to be driven back to town. They invited Mr. Gibbs to join them. After the men replaced the battery and aired up the flat tire, Mr. Gibbs climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key. The engine started up with a roar! Mr. Gibbs beamed with pride as he drove the dusty old bus out of the parking lot and onto the highway toward town.

One of the men of the church was an auto mechanic and agreed to service the truck and give it a good going over. He replaced the brake shoes and the muffler, and performed a thorough tune-up on the engine. Another member of the congregation owned a trucking business and installed a new set of six tires on the bus. Finally, a third member, who owned an auto body shop, agreed to replace the cracked windshield and paint the bus.

On the first Saturday of October, a bright sunny day, the youth group and the adult men’s study group, hosted a pancake breakfast in the church fellowship hall. Outside in the parking lot, was a large white canopy where a teen band from the high school class played and sang as folks milled around in the shade drinking coffee and speculating how the bus might look. The bus, after all its improvements were completed, had been kept under cover in a local garage awaiting this moment when it would be seen for the first time by the congregation. Reverend Smith had been busy for the past several weeks, getting volunteers organized and trained to drive the bus and working with church members to identify senior citizens and children who would like a ride to church on Sunday mornings.

Suddenly, the blaring sound of a bus horn filled the air as the bus turned off Main Street and pulled into the parking lot with Mr. Gibbs behind the wheel, smiling from ear to ear as he waved to the crowd of folks gathered for the occasion. Everyone was amazed at how beautiful the bus looked. Its shiny yellow enamel sparkled in the sunlight. It was not the normal yellow color of a school bus but a much lighter yellow; almost a creamy appearance. Along the sides, in big stylish red letters, was the name of the church. On front above the windshield, on the rear doors, and on each side were representations of the church logo in bright colors. The crowd burst out in cheers, welcoming Mr. Gibbs and the three men who were responsible for the miraculous transformation of the bus.

As people walked around the bus and climbed inside to look it over, Reverend Smith called Mr. Gibbs aside and told him he had something special in mind for this occasion. Finally, when everyone had had a chance to enjoy looking over the bus, Reverend Smith asked everyone to gather around. He had some words to share. First of all, he thanked the Board of Trustees for providing the money to purchase and restore the bus. And he thanked the three men who had volunteered time and materials to repair and restore the bus. Then, lastly, he turned to Mr. Gibbs and asked if it was alright to share his personal story. Mr. Gibbs nodded in approval.

Reverend Smith then told about how he had, by chance, met Mr. Gibbs at a coffee shop in town one day. Their conversation then led to Mr. Gibbs telling about his career as a bus driver and about the neglected, abandoned bus which now had been restored so beautifully. Reverend Smith then went on to tell what more he had learned about Mr. Gibbs when he had gone to the school to complete the purchase of the bus. He learned that Mr. Gibbs had graduated from high school in the small community and had been a good student and athlete, excelling in basketball. He had served in World War II as an infantryman and was severely injured during a battle in Europe, returning home a decorated soldier. However, the injuries sustained in battle had left him partially disabled. The role of bus driver and janitor at the school had suited him well since that time. Reverend Smith asked everyone to join him in thanking Mr. Gibbs for his sacrifice for his country and for helping to locate the perfect bus.

At last the first Sunday of bus service had arrived at the friendly church in this Kansas town. Reverend Smith provided a map and a list of all those who had asked to ride the bus. The afternoon before, he and the four volunteer bus drivers had traveled around the planned route to familiarize themselves with the locations where the bus would stop to pick up passengers.

First stop was for Johnny who lived way out on the north end of town. Next stop was at a nursing home where three people were waiting to board. Two were very elderly ladies who needed assistance from the driver to get up the steps onto the bus. The third person was Herbert, a man with a learning disability who was very able bodied. Dressed in a suit and tie, a worn bible tucked under his arm, he smiled and greeted everyone as he walked down the isle and found a seat, seeming very happy to be onboard.

At the next stop, there appeared the loveliest little girl one might ever hope to see. She waited in front of a nice home in a newer neighborhood. Her mother, an attractive slender woman, perhaps in her late thirties, waved from the front door. The girl was wearing a pretty blue dress. She had bright blue eyes. Her hair was a golden yellow color; straight and flowing with a bow clipped on top, a little to the side. She looked to be about seven years old as she climbed onboard and sat in the front row near the exit. Her face was sweet with an expression that conveyed just the hint of a smile but also revealed the nervous tension one would expect in a child of that age boarding a bus of older strangers.

Two more stops to pick up elderly ladies at their homes, then off to the senior citizen high rise center where three or four older women boarded. Finally the bus arrived at the church.

The church bus program was a good success. The girl with the golden hair brightened the lives of all who rode the bus. The senior citizens seemed to delight at seeing her, and little Johnny rarely missed a week at Sunday school. Reverend Smith eventually moved on to greener pastures.

And Mr. Gibbs with his little friend, Buster, may still be seen late at night beneath that giant elm tree in the corner of a dusty gravel parking lot. If you listen carefully, you may hear old Mr. Gibbs telling Buster about the beach at Normandy or the farm house and hedge row where snipers lay waiting one cold winter night. Look closely in the moonlight and you may see Buster look up and lick the old man’s chin. The bus rolls on.

James Middleton

February 25, 2014