May 11, 2020 (Monday)
The hard rock group, ZZ Top, has a song that starts with the words, “Have mercy, been waiting for the bus all day.” Have you ever waited for a bus? I waited for many buses while growing up. The bus was my principal mode of transportation in the city of Houston. (Before that, streetcars — I rode on them at a very early age). But I’ve ridden many buses that took me from town to town. I want to write today about three occasions of waiting for a bus of that kind.
The first time was in 1942. I was ten years old. My sisters, who were seven years old, my grandparents, and I were waiting in a bus station because we had been in a car that ran off the road, down an incline, coming to rest on its roof at the edge of a pond after three and one-half rollovers. The driver was a friend of the family. No one was injured critically, but my grandmother had much pain for days and my grandfather was bleeding. We flagged down a new car to take us on up the road. The driver kept cautioning my grandfather not to bleed on his new seats. He dropped us off at the bus station, where we spent the rest of the night waiting for a bus to take us to see our relatives at Lufkin, Texas. We spent the rest of the night waiting for a bus.
The next time, as best I can remember, was in 1946, when I was working as an usher in the Majestic Theater in downtown Houston. I was 15 years old. Another usher, Walter Somebody, and I asked a couple of girls who also worked at the theater for a date. We double dated. I don’t remember what we did. I guess we went to a movie, even though we all worked at a movie theater. There was not much else to do, especially when we had no money. We rode the bus together. When we took the girls home to Kashmere Gardens, we rode the city bus to the end of the line, and then took a Pioneer Bus Line bus to their homes. The street, Cavalcade, was being built at the time, and that’s where we waited for the Pioneer bus to take us to the City bus, which we caught on its last trip for the night.
The City Hall today looks much the same as it did in 1946
Today it is dwarfed by skyscrapers
That bus dropped us off downtown, where we had to spend the rest of the night waiting for the buses to run again the next morning. Somehow we wound up at Houston’s City Hall, where we each selected a bench and spent the rest of the night trying to sleep. (See the benches around the pool?)
The third time, again “as far as I can remember,” was in 1950, when I was a student at Baylor. My mother and stepfather had loaned me their second car, an old Packard coupe, for a little while, and when my friend found out I was going home for a weekend, he asked if he and his friend, both from Houston, could ride with me. We made it OK to Houston, but on the way back, a little after dark, between Hempstead and Navasota, the car started behaving strangely. It wanted to veer from side to side. I stopped on the side of the highway, could see nothing obviously wrong, and resumed our trip. I went only a few yards when the steering got worse, so I made a U turn to go back to Hempstead and find a mechanic. Not very probable, since it was Sunday night. I had gone just far enough to get the car over on the grassy shoulder when the steering became uncontrollable. We stopped, got out, and while we were looking at it, the front wheel collapsed. Front wheels had small axles called spindles, and that one broke.
A passing driver told us we were nearer Navasota than Hempstead and agreed to call a Navasota tow car from a phone in Hempstead, where he was headed (no cell phones back then). The tow car arrived and towed the car to the repair shop, dropping us off at the bus station, where we spent the remainder of the night, waiting for a bus to Waco. My friends took the bus, but I remained behind to make arrangements for repairs, communicating with my folks by telephone. I think I remained there until the car was repaired and then drove on to Waco. The next time I drove home, I left the car there for good. A little later, I became Associate Pastor at First Baptist Church, Groesbeck, about 35 miles from Waco and began riding a local bus back and forth on weekends. As far as I can remember, I never had to wait for the bus. The driver’s name was Peyton Gregory; I got to know him well. Wanda rode that same bus each week back and forth between Waco and Groesbeck. That’s how we came to know each other.
Three times, described above, I waited all night with hope that the bus would come. I’ve thought about how the Lord promised to return, and how you and I have been waiting for the dawn to come, when He would arrive. One of these nights, we shall hear that final trumpet blast from the sky, and Jesus will appear. The Bible says, every eye shall behold Him, like the lightning flashes from one direction and is seen in the other. Never again shall we have to wait. Even so, come Lord Jesus!
Orchestra only – for music and words together, see bottom of page
John W. Peterson
1957
Marvelous message we bring,
Glorious carol we sing,
Wonderful word of the King,
Jesus is coming again!
Chorus
Coming again, Coming again,
May be morning, may be noon,
May be evening and may be soon!
Coming again, Coming again;
O what a wonderful day it will be –
Jesus is coming again!
Forest and flower exclaim,
Mountain and meadow the same,
All earth and heaven proclaim,
Jesus is coming again!
Chorus
Coming again, Coming again,
May be morning, may be noon,
May be evening and may be soon!
Coming again, Coming again;
O what a wonderful day it will be –
Jesus is coming again!
Standing before Him at last,
Trial and trouble all past,
Crowns at His feet we will cast,
Jesus is coming again!
Chorus
Coming again, Coming again,
May be morning, may be noon,
May be evening and may be soon!
Coming again, Coming again;
O what a wonderful day it will be –
Jesus is coming again!
Hear it again (both words and music together):