Greatest moment

Someone sent me this piece this morning and it was so much better than what I was going to write about I decided to just send it to you. I hope you enjoy this today and I hope it sets the pace for your day as it has mine.

THE LAST 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, and 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, and 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 of us 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, and 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.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT

YOU SAID, ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE

THEM FEEL.

Luke 6:45
The good man brings good things out of the
good stored in his heart