As you who read my blog know, I was recently in Chicago to meet my infant grandson and help my youngest daughter and her partner as they acclimated to their new roles as parents. Those of you who have the pleasure of being grandparents know how exciting and frightening those first few days can be. From fumbling with diapers, to getting up with every gurgle, grunt and groan that emits from the wee one, to simply gazing in awe at this new life your children have brought forth, the first days of a person’s life is a wonder to behold. Of course, knowing the demands that await these two 
loving parents, my job was to give them the space they needed to enjoy the newness of parenthood. Washing clothes or dishes, offering encouraging words, or simply holding Eli so my daughter could have a few minutes for self pampering, all of it was a labor of love for Mary, Eric, and little Elijah.
Beyond the pragmatic though, were moments of contemplation. As I studied Eli’s face, or felt the tug of his little fingers on my pinky, or massaged his tiny feet (he likes that!) I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of world Eli would inherit from us. These insular moments of infancy where all of his needs would be provided for, where nurture was abundant, where his world consisted of his parents and himself with the rest of us orbiting about from time to time, would soon enough give way to the broader world of scraped knees and hurt feelings. Would the bigger world be kind to Eli? Would he weather the storms to eventually become a man of strength and honor? Heady questions for such a little one, but at times the thoughts crossed my mind.
Too soon I had to return home. As much as I loved spending time with this precious family, I missed my husband. Before long it would be time to start preparing for Passover. We are nearing the closing date on the purchase of our new home and I needed to start packing . . . again. My daughter and I shared tears as I left. She tugged at my heartstrings. After all, she is my baby. Her tears were those of a new mother who wanted her mother to stay just a tad longer. I knew in those moments though, something she was still unsure of, that she and Eric were fine parents and would do well without me. I was no longer needed there. The tears were an expression of love on both of our parts.
As I boarded the train into Chicago, my heart was now beating for home. Later that day, as I boarded the Megabus that would take me back to Cleveland, I noticed that there was an unusually large number of boarders for this trip. Instead of having a seat to myself to stretch out and relax, or to read or work on final projects for class, I was relegated to tucking my backpack under my seat and holding purse, camera, coat, and travel pillow in my lap as a total stranger took the seat next to me. It was going to be an uncomfortable six hour trip for sure. To top it off, the man who sat next to me was a Muslim. I am Jewish. Oy . . . All I could think of was that he would probably give me grief if or when he found out my identity. Oh well. I would make the best of it. This was the first time I had ever traveled by Megabus where we were packed in like sardines.
Soon after the bus pulled out and we were headed back home, the young man next to me opened up a package of cookies and offered me a cookie.
“No thank you,” I replied.
“I apologize for having to take up your space,” he offered in a soft voice.
“No problem” said I.
“Do you come to Chicago very often?” he pursued.
“When I can. My daughters live here. What about you?”
“This is my first time here. Chicago is a beautiful city.”
Detecting an accent, I asked, “Where is your home?”
“Istanbul, Turkey. Have you ever been there?”
“No, afraid not.”
It didn’t take long for the conversation to get around to religion. Maybe he noticed that I wore a cap, or maybe he was just curious. He volunteered that he was Muslim, Sunni to be exact.
“Are you a religious person?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. Jewish. Orthodox” I replied.
By now I was uneasy but I was not going to shy away from the fact that my Jewishness defines who I am and how I live in this world.
The conversation continued for the remainder of the trip. For six hours we discussed our beliefs, our similarities, our differences, our families and customs. For six hours we laughed, at moments treading softly not knowing how the other would respond. I questioned Muslim practices that to me seemed strange, and he did the same with me concerning Jewish observances. Always respectful, Ibrihim appeared to relish the discussion as much as I did. We talked about prayer and what our different prayers meant to us, about our holy writings and their importance in our lives. We talked about the differences of growing up in the US versus life for him in Turkey. Respect of one’s elders (he nodded to me when he spoke about this) was of utmost importance and how it pained him to see such disrespect in this country. I questioned him on the things I read about the treatment of women in that part of the world. We tiptoed around the tensions in the middle east. Yet, despite a little unease on that subject, he was the one who concluded that I must return to Israel, the homeland of the Jews. He was the one who observed that my soul would always be restless till the day I set foot in our land.
The hours flew by. I learned a lot on this trip home from Chicago. When we arrived at our destination, he thanked me for being such a gracious seat partner on our journey. I wished him well in his studies and his future endeavors, then he disappeared into the crowd. As I stepped off the bus (midnight) my husband was there to greet me. And I was full of news about our newest grandchild, Elijah. I was glad to be back home. I was thrilled to fill “Zaide” in on all the details about Elijah. But I would not forget about my trip back from Chicago, either.
Now, days later, I am encouraged about the world that Elijah will inherit. There are no guarantees in life, no way of knowing what will be. But I am reassured of what is possible. When Jew and Muslim can talk there is hope. Certain segments of society will never sit down to the negotiating table. I know that. And as long as rockets are being lobbed into Israel (daily they fall on Israel!) how can there be talk of peace? On the other hand, when common people can talk about their similarities and differences, there is hope. And that gives me hope for our precious Elijah and the world he will inherit.
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Inspired Vision 
Putting this in the perspective of the Boston bombing makes it even more interesting. If two people on a crowded bus with disparate beliefs and cultures can get along, why can’t everyone? (and congratulations on the grandson!)
Thanks Huffygirl. I can’t help but scratch my head at the fact that I wrote this a year ago this past March and then forgot to post it. Serendipitously I came across the draft early this morning when I was “cleaning out” some blogging stuff. I don’t have much time to write these days, so it was delightful to find this, post it and thereby keep my ‘toes’ in the bloggosphere! It wasn’t till hours later that it occured to me about the timing of it. And maybe that is the reason I ‘forgot’ to post it when originally wrote it; the time was now and not then. My heart breaks over the tragedy of Boston and all the lives that were lost or have been forever altered, as well as the lives of two young men with bright futures ahead who instead chose death and destruction. Tragic. But there is still hope for those who are willing to listen and to talk and to respect each other’s differences. Again, thanks for stopping by and adding your thoughts. (And Eli is now 1 year old and PRECIOUS as ever!)
Cecelia, what a pleasant surprise to find your post. My husband and I are currently in Virginia so we can spend time with our granddaughter Natalie. She was nine months on April 14 – fun to imagine that she has spent as much time out of her mother’s womb as she did in it. I know when you re-read your account of your first visit with Elijah and his parents it brought back many memories for you. With regard to your seat mate on your trip from Chicago to Cleveland, I have a sister whose second husband is from Istanbul (he converted to Christianity before she met him), our other daughter went to Israel for ten days after she graduated from high school in 1999, and I had a student named Ibrahim when I was a kindergarten teacher. All of this is to indicate I felt a kinship with you and your post and also had the feeling that we live on a small planet. By the way, have I ever told you how much I like your school girl photo that you use with your blog?
Barbara, it is always delightful to see you here. I hope you are enjoying VA and time with your granddaughter. Nothing like our grandchildren to bring joy! Yes, reading this post did bring back many memories. It is hard to believe that Eli celebrated his first birthday last month. Time goes too fast. You do connect with this post on several different levels!, don’t you! Your family sounds like they have had wonderful adventures of their own! I agree with you; we live on a small (and fascinating) planet! And finally, the school photo was taken when I was in the second grade, if memory serves. I am a twin, and for the first three grades in school, we were one of three sets of twins, all of us fraternal. A set of boys (Danny and Donny), a set of girls (Sarah and Vicki), and the two of us (Steve and Cecelia). It was such an anomaly for the small rural school in Louisiana that a photo was taken for the year book, and this is the cropped photo of me. Maybe I’ll write a little blurb about it and post it to the blog. đŸ˜‰
Blessings to you.
Handsome young man! and a lesson in learning by being open to others and sharing.
Thanks for stopping by, Linda. I always appreciate your comments. Yes, the experience made a lasting impact on me, for sure, and I’m glad to share it, even if it is a year after the fact!
Congratulations on a job well done, Grandmother! So glad you had a good trip to my hometown and a safe return home. We wonder what will become of the world, don’t we? I agree. I think eventually our humanity will triumph over our inhumanity.
Thanks for stopping by, Annie. I was delighted to come across this post, and a bit surprised that I had failed to publish it. I am glad to share it now, though. That trrip was memorable for many reasons, and now Elijah is one year old and thriving! Yes, I’m counting on our choices for goodness to outweigh our choices for the not so good.