We emptied the subway platform into the L train fairly early today. (It didn't surprise me to learn that the L is the most crowded train in the MTA system and relief is coming in five years or so!)

I found a handhold on a pole and was grateful for that. Since it was too crowded to open my newspaper, I resorted to my other early morning occupation. I began to pray for each person hanging on with me.

We were a perfect motley crew of commuters: a woman with a tiny New Testament that she was somehow managing to read; a man with a folded newspaper in a language whose alphabet I could not decipher; a middle-aged woman wired for sound and tethered to a rhinestone-decorated purple device that was evoking a look of perfect beatitude; a hawk-nosed young man in a hooded sweatshirt who could have been a bearded poster person for friend or foe...

They each got a prayer that this dark morning might somehow fulfill their expectations or desires. That prayer took me to my change of trains at Union Square where the connecting train opened its doors just long enough to disgorge its passengers and then decided to close after admitting one new one! A strong-armed man prevented that and I managed to squeeze aboard and find a new pole to clutch.

For this part of the ride I shared with a man whose wheeled cart carried two huge packages; a college-aged girl in boots and an off-the shoulder top (despite the October nip in the air); a lad clutching his skateboard; so early in the day; a mother with a shiny-faced toddler, all ready for action...

They all got a prayer too and then it was time to get off at 28th Street where I found myself on the stairs behind the man with the wheeled cart of burdens. My initial impulse was impatience, and then I caught myself. I had better be patient since he had obviously started his day with weighty responsibilities. I slowly climbed the narrow stairs behind him, and then I wondered: had anyone been praying for me so that my normal restiveness so quickly turned into forbearance? Maybe.

One never knows what silent graces are circling those subway car poles.