God Spotted Fixing Hair On SEPTA

Meet Eileen Button, columnist for the Davison Flagstaff Flint Journal Clio Messenger. I am guessing those are three separate papers, but who knows. Ms. Button recently took a trip to Philadelphia, and there she found God. Where, you say?

No, not the basilica or the Liberty Bell or Lincoln Financial Field. Not even at my place! Not, she found God on SEPTA. And he was… mouth-watering.

Recently, I found God as I rode the train from Center City Philadelphia to the city’s airport. A young man boarded the train and took the seat in front of me. Although it was early morning, he smelled wonderfully like lunch in an ethnic restaurant - spicy, garlicky with a strong dose of Hungarian paprika.

Wikipedia says “paprika” comes from the Hungarian “paprika,” so I did learn something here, albeit indirectly. I also now know that SEPTA will soon have an ad campaign quoting this column, encouraging riders to “Get there with God!”

Also: When people who smell sit near me on SEPTA, I blame the Devil.

He immediately began his morning routine as he rubbed oil into his hands and began styling his thick, curly black hair. I stared, mesmerized by his oblivious primping, and noticed how his hair fell onto the brown corduroy collar of his barn coat and framed his almost-black eyes and unshaven face.

I thought it was lovely - and that’s where God entered in. Tears filled my eyes when I realized that God might watch us with that much curiosity, ardor and utter appreciation.

The column is about finding God in ordinary places. Fair enough. But: When I see people crying on SEPTA, I usually don’t think that’s God’s doing. Now I know.

And, yes, that random link to centercityphila.org was in the original piece.

God can be found in the most unusual places, says Flint Journal columnist Eileen Button [mlive.com]
Thanks, RJ