As we are passing the beginning of the New Year, it’s good if we can think more about the ways we express love, care, and concern for those around us, even if they are strangers. Allow me to share a story that was forwarded to me by a close friend. While it may be a bit lengthy, I assure you it’s a tale well worth your time. I’ll write this article in his own words!

Two decades ago, I found myself living a rather unconventional life as a cab driver. It was a lifestyle something like a cowboy, which was suitable for someone desiring independence, constant movement, and the thrill of uncertainty with every new passenger.

Little did I anticipate that this job would also be a form of ministry. Working the night shift turned my cab into a mobile confessional. Anonymous passengers would enter, share their life stories, and open up in ways they wouldn’t during the daylight hours. We were like strangers on a train, hurtling through the night, exchanging stories that transcended the boundaries of ordinary conversations.

Among the countless lives that left a lasting impact on me, one woman’s story stands out, shared with me late on a warm August night.

Responding to a call from a quiet part of town, I arrived at a dark fourplex with just one light in a ground-floor window. Many drivers would have hesitated, honking a few times before leaving due to potential dangers associated with approaching a dark building at 2:30 in the morning. However, my experiences with people relying on the cab as their sole means of transportation made me approach the situation differently.

Ignoring the shadows, I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” a frail voice answered. I heard the sound of something being dragged, and after a pause, the door opened to reveal a small woman in her 80s. She wore a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil, reminiscent of a bygone era. Beside her stood a small nylon suitcase.

The apartment seemed frozen in time, with covered furniture and an absence of personal items. A cardboard box in the corner held photos and glassware.”Could you carry my bag out to the car?” she asked. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, if you could come back and help me? I’m not very strong.”

I took the suitcase to the cab and returned to assist her. As we walked slowly towards the curb, she expressed gratitude for my kindness.”It’s nothing,” I reassured her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“You’re such a good boy,” she praised, overwhelming me with appreciation.

In the cab, she provided an address and requested a drive-through downtown. Despite it not being the shortest route, I obliged. She revealed that she was on her way to a hospice, with no family left, and the doctor predicted her time was limited.

I looked in the rearview mirror, seeing her glistening eyes. Without a word, I turned off the meter and asked, “What route would you like me to go?”

For the next two hours, we traversed the city. She pointed out places of significance, recounting memories of her youth, marriage, and past employment. Occasionally, we would pause in front of a building or corner, and she would silently gaze into the darkness.

As the first light of dawn appeared, she said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”

We drove in silence to the address she provided. It was a low building resembling a convalescent home. Two orderlies promptly assisted her upon arrival. I opened the trunk, took her suitcase to the door, and found her seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“You have to make a living,” she insisted.

“There are other passengers,” I said.

Almost instinctively, I hugged her, and she clung to me. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was no need for further words. I squeezed her hand, walked into the dim morning light, and heard the door close. It was a poignant sound marking the end of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. Lost in thought, I drove aimlessly, contemplating what might have happened if she had encountered an impatient or angry driver. What if I had refused the run or left after a few honks? The realization struck me: our lives often revolve around unexpected, small moments that hold immense significance.

When that woman hugged me and expressed gratitude for bringing her a moment of joy, it felt as if my purpose on earth had been fulfilled in that last ride. I can hardly think of any other action in my life that holds greater importance.

This is the end of his story and I hope you may have enjoyed it I think you might have a small idea of what I am going to say.

I think our lives are filled with great moments that are coming to us unaware even though others consider them as small incidents. Most of the time, people may not remember what you have done for them and when you have done them. But they will never forget how they felt about what you have done. So always remember to be a reason for someone’s unforgettable sweet memory!


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