OT: The Story - ThinnerTimes

Dara · 08-22-2005, 10:55 AM

My dear friends:

Although this is not related to WLS, I feel the need to share a story with you. I think it puts everything in perspective...

THE STORY

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 someone out of a 1940's 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 into 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 down in front of a particular building or corner and she would just 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.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel! You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to 10 people. But you just may help make the world a little more kinder and more compassionate by sharing it with one.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance. Every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath, truly is a gift...

gramamarc · 08-22-2005, 11:39 AM

I love that !!!
One day when I went in to Albertson's to shop there was an older lady sitting on the bench outside with her groceries. When I came out she was still there. I asked her if she needed a ride. She said she had already called a cab, but sometimes they take a long time. I offered to take her home. We put all the groceries in my car and she sirected me to her house. It was a lot farther than I expected but that was Ok. When we got there (not a very nice section of town) her son came out and helped with the groceries.
I don't know if she will even remember that I helped her, but every time I think of it I feel really good.
I want to always have that feeling!!
M

veroniquetalk · 08-22-2005, 12:42 PM

This reminds me of something that my son did when he was 16 years old. We live in a small town and there used to be an elderly gentleman who would ride one of those 3 wheel bikes around town. Well, one day my son was in the pawn shop looking for a cheap stereo system and this gentleman came in looking for a used air conditioner. It had been a very hot summer. Well, the pawn shop didn't have one but they called another pawn shop in a town about 20 miles away and they had one. So, my son drove the man over there, he bought the air conditioner and my son even installed it for him when they got to the man's house. I didn't know any of this and was a little irritated that my 16 year old was gone too long with the car. When he came home he told me right away what he had done and I was so proud of him!

LizardQueen · 08-22-2005, 04:00 PM

What a lovely story and a great reminder of how we should treat others and how sometimes the truly great moments are those that aren't planned. Thanks for sharing!

misty gunn · 08-22-2005, 06:39 PM

Thank you for sharing.

sUzYzPLaCe · 08-22-2005, 09:48 PM

Thanks for sharing that story Dara, it reminded me of my grandmother and actually brought a tear to my eye. Thanks again! Suzy

Dee22 · 08-22-2005, 09:49 PM

I love this story. Really makes you think how you shouldn't take things for granted. Including people, and how we should treat one another

eyesthatkissu · 08-22-2005, 09:58 PM

A few years ago before we moved from Lakeside, we attended a fabulous church. It had gone through a major overhaul in just a few months when we lost our Pastor. I always felt that the people in our church, were a little "uppity". And I'm sure weather you attend church or not, you know what I mean. Our new Pastor came along and he was young and hip and full of life, and humor, and great lessons. One Sunday morning as we were all filing into church I noticed a man sitting on a small planter box off to the side. He was ill kept, in dirty clothes, with missmatched shoes. His hair was long, and honestly looked varmin infested. I had stepped off to the side to wait for my husband who was trying to find a place to park our monster truck. I noticed, person after person walk right by him, dressed in their Sunday best. They acted as if he wasn't even there. A couple times he lifted his eyes to watch them walk by, but mostly he stared at his missmatched shoes. I ached for him. When my husband finally arrived, worship was already in full swing and I told him what I had been watching. We walked over to him together and introduced ourselves. I told him he would be more then welcome inside. He looked at me, almost grief stricken. Then looked so grateful. My husband went over and helped him up. I must say, he smelled terrible. We went inside and sat down towards the back where we thought he'd be more comfortable. We sat right next to him, handed him a program and bible, and then just enjoyed the worship together. I know that he smelled badly, and I was honestly afraid to touch him, but I did. I reached over and rested my hand on his arm as he swayed happily to the music. After worship everyone sat down and waited for the sermon to begin. As the minutes passed, it became apparent that Pastor Steve was late.... again. Just then the man beside us stood up. I was so afraid he was going to leave. But he walked slowly down the aisle. I quickly instructed the closest usher that I thought the man might be wanting prayer. He scurried after him. As the man reached the front of the church he turned and faced the congregation. He grabbed the microphone, and pulled off the tattered wig and coat. It WAS Pastor Steve himself. The congregation gasped, and I nearly fainted. It had been a test he told us. And one that we had failed miserably. He explained that church wasn't really for those of us that already had a relationship with God, or that were already on a path. But more for the down trodden, the lost. He was so dissapointed that so many of us had walked right by him and ignored him, even though we knew his plight. To this day, I try to be kind to everyone I see, or meet. I never know from moment to moment, if I am only being tested, by the Big Man Himself! The kindness in a smile, the tenderness in a caring touch, or the hopefulness of a voice, can never be measured by today's standards, but will last an etenerity in the heart.