STORY OF A CAB RIDE

cab-driver-and-the-old-lady

STORY OF A CAB RIDE ( A testimony from a cab driver )

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.

When I arrived at 2:30am., 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 good you were or how bad you were

He will ask “Did you receive my Son Jesus” Did you read

the words of life I told you through Him?