While working in a big city, a good option came for taking a bus. This bus was crowded. I observed a well-dressed woman who I would guess to be between 40 and 50 years old. She also stood, along with many of us, for several miles on this overcrowded bus. Finally, the passenger near her requested a stop, leaving an empty seat. She settled onto the cushions, off her extra-high- healed feet. I could feel her relief.

At the next stop a young woman with a newborn baby climbed onto the bus, leading a toddler beside her. No one moved to give a seat, so she stood with the rest of us. The baby’s body bounced about in rhythm with the bus, with no protective hand about its head. The recently seated woman looked at the young mother, then away. She looked rather nonplussed, and I surmised an inward struggle. Two or three minutes later, she looked back at the young mother and found her voice, “Would you take my seat?” In a moment they exchanged places.

Did I imagine a hush that pervaded the bus?

A few miles down the road. A priest swung up the stairwell with a briefcase in hand. By then, transfers allowed me to be seated by a teenage boy. We traveled several blocks when the young man jumped up suddenly, saying, “Here, take this,” to the priest, before finding a resting spot on the rail.

Living at a time when words are ubiquitous—ever bombarding our eyes and ears—it seems actions have “come into their own,” with great potential for notice.

The young are asking, “Where’s the action?” Mind you, they are not looking for the kind witnessed on the bus, but yet they are not apt to miss it either, when it happens.

Another case in point affects two adults—namely, my husband Gary and I. We love the beauty of the earth and would not consider littering, yet neither of us has thought much of picking up after others along the highways and byways of life. That is until “Phoenix,” and all because of too little ladies.

Early in the mornings, between 6:30 and 7:30, this pair can be seen in Olive Grove Park, wearing gloves, picking up trash left by the public of the previous day. We have come to think of them as the “unsung heroes,” admiring their selfless diligence.

One morning while talking with them, we learned this volunteer “garbage detail” has gone on for two years. They claim to enjoy the exercise, citing the walking and bending keeps them flexible. “It’s sort of ‘paying our dues to the club,’” said Elda with a disarming smile.

The change in us was subtle, but after watching these women for three months, we are not so apt to step over an aluminum can on the path or candy wrappers in stairways. We stooped more, now, influenced by that every day, quiet example. (Albeit, more care exists within the current pandemic.)

Most of us are more conscious of our actions or lack of them when we see others portraying exemplary choices. But, how much more enriched the corner of our world could be were we to carry throughout the year deeds that silently speak. Almost always someone is watching. It has been said that our lives are often the only Bible read, the only sermon heard. Pantomimed.

As an adult, we can and do affect one another. But, mostly I think of the young. Many words have crossed their wires; they have few heroes. Good observers, they recognize what is good and what is right when it is acted out before their eyes. The world is their theatre. They seem “on stage.” But all the time, they are really watching us.

Perhaps the greatest gift we can give to ourselves is encouragement to believe in the art of being salt . . . humble, lowly, having great preserving power. Seasoning, serving to beacon earth’s children—large and small wandering forked paths. The people of flavor, offering up the essence of ourselves for the betterment of all—living out the way of Christ, portrayed in the best possible taste.

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house,” (Matthew 5:13-15).