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Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at 2:30a.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 rear-view 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.
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