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| The Man at the Bus Stop |
In the back room of New Hope Daycare, nestled within First Grace Church, the gentle murmur of Bible stories filled the air.
“...And then,” Miss Lena said, her voice gentle, “the angel told Elijah, ‘Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.’”
She smiled at the group of preschoolers gathered at her feet. “God sent someone to help him. Just like He sends help to us—even when we don’t expect it.”
Twenty-seven-year old, Leo Merryman lingered at the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of his worn-out messenger bag. His four-year-old son, Eli, sat cross-legged on the rug, eyes wide, listening like it was the most important story he’d ever heard.
Leo took a breath.
Miss Lena looked up and locked eyes with him. She nodded before he could say anything. She knew his situation—and had always shown him grace.
“I’ll pay next week,” he said softly. “I promise. I've got a job interview with TechDesk Solutions this morning. Maybe the eleventh try will be the lucky one."
She smiled. "Next week works for me. I'm still keeping you in my prayers.”
He knelt, kissed Eli’s curls, and whispered, “Be good today. I’ve got a big interview.”
Eli grinned. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll save you a waffle.”
Leo managed a half-smile. “Deal.”
He stood and turned toward the door, stepping into the gray morning with the weight of the world sitting squarely on his shoulders.
By the time he reached the corner of Maple and 3rd, the drizzle had turned to a steady mist. Leo sat on the cold bench, his dress shoes soaked through, his tie hanging crooked like even it had given up.
This was his eleventh interview in two months.
He wasn’t even sure why he was going. His resume was short. His suit was too tight. He’d already rescheduled twice—Eli had a fever last week. He’d scraped together bus fare with a handful of quarters and guilt. And he was late.
Eight months ago, his wife left, taking with her the furniture, their plans, and dreams. What remained was the rent, divorce papers, and a little boy who continued to ask why Mommy no longer tucked him in at night.
Leo leaned forward, face in his hands.
He wasn’t thinking about jumping or pills or anything like that. But he was thinking about disappearing. Quietly. Letting someone else do better by Eli than he ever could.
“Rough morning?”
The voice startled him. Leo looked up and nodded. “Yeah.”
A man in his early forties stood close by, exuding confidence with his relaxed stance and a gentle smile. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his thick gray coat appeared well-maintained. A scarf was neatly tied around his neck. His warm brown eyes conveyed empathy and understanding.
Leo gave a grunt, more of an exhale than a word.
The man sat beside him. Not close enough to crowd. But close enough to matter.
“I used to sit here too,” he said after a moment.
Leo glanced sideways. “What, you live around here?”
The man smiled faintly. “Used to. A long time ago. Back when my kids were small. Same stop. Same corner. Different burdens.”
Leo didn’t answer. He stared at the sidewalk. He didn’t have the energy to be polite. But he didn’t have the strength to walk away either.
“My name’s Atticus,” the man offered.
“Leo.”
“Well, Leo,” Atticus said quietly, “you look like a man carrying too much. And maybe thinking about dropping it.”
That got Leo’s attention. He blinked, swallowed hard. “What makes you say that?”
Atticus shrugged. “I’ve seen that look before. I wore it once. When my wife left, and I had two little girls looking at me like I had answers I didn’t have.”
Leo said nothing. His throat burned.
“I had a moment like this,” Atticus went on. “Right here. I sat on this bench and thought about vanishing. Thought maybe it would be better if I just… stepped away. Give them a chance at something better.”
Leo stared ahead. “And did you?”
“No,” Atticus said softly. “Because a stranger sat next to me and said something that stopped me.”
“What did they say?”
“They said, ‘You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to stay.’”
Leo closed his eyes. Stay. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he whispered.
“No one is,” Atticus said. “Not at first. But the strength doesn’t come all at once. It comes in the small things. In socks and shoes in the morning. In peanut butter sandwiches. In bedtime stories. It comes in staying.”
Leo was quiet for a long time. Atticus didn’t push.
Eventually, Leo pulled Eli’s favorite small teddy bear from his pocket. “My boy’s name is Eli,” he said. “He’s four.”
Atticus nodded. “That’s a good name. Strong name. A prophet’s name.”
Leo chuckled. “He likes dinosaurs. And waffles. And sleeping in my bed even when I tell him not to.”
Atticus grinned. “Sounds like a boy worth staying for.”
Leo looked down at the tiny animal. Something in Atticus’ voice—so sure, so gentle—settled something inside him. Like the cliff he’d been standing on wasn’t as high as he thought.
The bus rolled into view, tires hissing in the rain.
Atticus stood and brushed off his coat. “This one’s yours?”
Leo nodded slowly. “Yeah. I have to be there before nine. I can’t be late.”
"You'll be fine," Atticus reassured, checking his tiny gold watch. "They're expecting you. You'll land the job.”
Leo froze. “How do you know that?”
Atticus met his eyes. “Because you’re not done yet. And neither is God.”
The doors opened with a hydraulic sigh.
Leo turned toward the bus, then looked back.
The bench was empty.
No footsteps. No coat. No sign Atticus had ever been there at all.
The driver gave a small wave. “You coming or not, man?”
Leo stepped onto the bus, stunned.
Later that evening, Leo stood barefoot in the kitchen, while Eli was on the floor coloring in his favorite book, and the smell of frozen pizza filled the air.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Subject: Job Offer – TechDesk Solutions
Message: Mr. Leo Merryman — We’re happy to offer you the Computer Support Technician position. We were impressed by your interview and would love to have you on board. Please see attached offer letter and onboarding schedule.
Leo read the message twice. Then a third time.
He leaned against the counter, the phone trembling slightly in his hands. After all the closed doors, all the dead ends—this one had opened. Just like Atticus had said.
Eli peeked up at him. “Is that your work paper, Daddy?”
Leo laughed, eyes welling. “Kind of, buddy. Yeah.”
He crouched down and pulled Eli into a hug.
In the quiet that followed, Leo looked out the kitchen window. No rain now—just dusk. The sky turning gold at the edges.
Then he whispered, “Thank You… for sending someone to sit beside me.”
🕊️ An Echoes of Faith Story
Because sometimes, the one beside you isn’t just a stranger… but a whisper of Heaven in disguise.
