Friday was an interesting day

An interesting day on Friday, please read my short story

The Journey North

The Lighthouse of Port McNeill

There are journeys we take upon the roads of this world, and there are journeys we take within the soul.

Sometimes, the two become one.

One morning, a bus driver felt a quiet calling within his heart.

It was not a voice he could hear with his ears. It was something gentler a knowing, a whisper carried upon the wind.

Go north.

So he began his journey toward Port McNeill, travelling through the magnificent forests and mountains of northern Vancouver Island.

As the miles passed beneath the wheels, the world seemed strangely peaceful.

The great trees stood like ancient guardians beside the road.

The mountains watched silently from the distance.

And the ocean carried the morning light along the coastline.

The driver felt that he was not travelling alone.

Something unseen seemed to accompany him.

Perhaps it was the spirit of the island itself.

Perhaps it was the quiet presence of all those who had travelled these roads before him.

Or perhaps it was simply love.

He knew only that he had been called to help a beautiful soul find her way home.

For two long years, a lady bus driver in Port McNeill had been away from the work she loved.

Illness had taken her from the driver's seat and carried her through a difficult valley of darkness.

There had been days of uncertainty.

Days of waiting.

Days when the road ahead was impossible to see.

But somewhere within her, a tiny flame had remained alive.

The flame of hope.

The flame of courage.

And most of all, the flame of knowing that she still had something wonderful to give.

Then, one day, the door opened.

The road called again.

She was coming home.

When the bus driver arrived in Port McNeill, he saw something that touched his soul.

She was standing there with a smile.

Not merely a smile of happiness, but the smile of someone who had crossed a great river and reached the other side.

She seemed transformed.

She seemed illuminated from within.

And in that moment, he understood.

She was a lighthouse.

For two years she had known the darkness, and now she had become a light for others.

Like the great lighthouse standing upon the coast, she would once again guide people safely through their journeys.

She climbed aboard her bus.

She placed her hands upon the wheel.

And when the doors opened, the people came.

One by one.

Old friends.

Familiar faces.

Customers who had wondered when they would see her again.

And their faces lit up.

There was laughter.

There were warm greetings.

There were smiles that needed no words.

For they had missed her.

The town had missed her.

The road had missed her.

And perhaps, in some mysterious way, the buses themselves had missed the warmth of the person who had so lovingly carried their passengers through the beautiful north.

Then the engine came alive.

The doors closed.

And the bus began to move.

Through the forests.

Along the coastline.

Past mountains reaching toward heaven.

She was doing what she was born to do.

She was carrying people.

But perhaps she was carrying something more.

She was carrying hope.

She was carrying joy.

She was carrying the quiet message that even after the darkest journey, the light can return.

Every passenger who climbed aboard became part of that light.

Every smile became a blessing.

Every journey became a celebration.

And the beautiful northern roads of Vancouver Island became her moving sanctuary.

The bus driver who had travelled north watched quietly.

He knew his purpose had been fulfilled.

He had not come to save her.

He had simply come to help her remember the light that had always been inside her.

And sometimes that is what we are given to do for another human being.

Not to walk their path for them.

Not to carry their burdens forever.

But simply to stand beside them until they can see the path again.

As evening descended over Port McNeill, the sky began to glow.

The last light of the sun touched the mountains.

The ocean became silver.

And far away, the lighthouse stood against the coming darkness.

The bus driver began his journey home.

His heart was peaceful.

He knew that something sacred had happened that day.

A soul had returned to her calling.

A light had been rekindled.

A community had welcomed one of its beloved drivers home.

And somewhere behind him, the lady bus driver continued along the roads of northern Vancouver Island, her bus moving beneath the stars.

He smiled.

For he knew there would be happy days ahead.

Many more doors would open.

Many more passengers would climb aboard.

Many more miles would pass beneath her wheels.

And every person who entered her bus would receive something more than transportation.

They would receive a little piece of her joy.

A little piece of her courage.

A little piece of the light she had discovered by travelling through darkness.

The bus driver looked toward the heavens.

And quietly, with gratitude in his heart, he whispered:

“The journey is complete.

The light has returned.

She is home.”

Then he continued south beneath the stars, carrying peace within his heart.

And the northern lighthouse continued to shine.

Not only upon the sea

but upon the roads.

Upon the people.

Upon every journey yet to come.

And upon a beautiful lady bus driver who had found her way back to what she was born to do.

The darkness had not defeated her.

It had taught her how brightly she could shine.

And now her light was ready to guide others home.

With love

A Mc