STORY OF A CAB RIDE
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I
arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single
light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just
honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But, I had seen
too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as
their only means of transportation.
Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to
the door.
This passenger might be someone who needs my
assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the
door and knocked. "Just a minute,"
answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being
dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in
her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print
dress and a pillbox hat with a veil
pinned on it, like
somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small
nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for
years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls,
no knickknacks or
utensils on the counters. In the corner was a
cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I
took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist
the woman. She took my arm and we
walked slowly toward
the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my
passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then
asked, "Could you drive through downtown?" "It's not
the shortest way," I answered
quickly. "Oh, I don't
mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to
a
hospice,"
I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were
glistening. "I don't have
any family left," she
continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I
quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She
showed me the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood
where she and her husband had lived when
they
were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of
a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom
where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a
particular building or corner
and would sit staring
into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she
suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home,
with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two
orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled
up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching her every
move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk
and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was
already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her
purse. "Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.
She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she
said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning
light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the
closing of a life. I didn't pick up any
more
passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in
thought.
For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What
if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who
was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done
anything more important in my life. We're conditioned
to think that our lives revolve
around great moments .
But great moments often catch us unaware-
beautifully
wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
Ten things God won't ask:
1...God won't ask what kind of car
you drove; He'll ask how many people you drove who
didn't have transportation.
2...God won't ask the square footage of your house,
He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
3...God won't ask about the clothes you had in your
closet, He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.
4...God won't ask what your highest salary was,
He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain
it.
5...God won't ask what your job title was, He'll
ask if you performed your job to the best of your
ability.
6...God won't ask how many friends you had, He'll
ask how many people to whom you were a friend.
7...God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived,
He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.
8...God won't ask about the color of your skin,
He'll ask about the content of your character.
9...God won't ask why it took you so long to seek
Salvation, He'll lovingly take you to your mansion in
heaven, and not to the gates of Hell.
10...God won't ask how many people you forwarded
this to, He'll ask if you were ashamed to pass it on
to your friends
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
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