A Moment of Joy

Posted by M ws On Sunday, June 3, 2012 3 comments
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional.

Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I responded to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.

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 poor 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 needed 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 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody 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 knick- knacks 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 rearview 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 attentive, 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, Dear."

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 very many more important things 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 small ones.


*True story, though unproven

"You can never do a kindness too soon, because you never know how soon it will be too late." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

3 comments to A Moment of Joy

  1. says:

    Shadower Good one MWS.

    In our daily rat race, in our harried and hurried lives, it is moments like these that the pause button is hit and everything comes to a screeching halt and makes one ponder....
    Keep it coming.


  1. says:

    masterwordsmith Thanks, Shadower, for resonating with this post which I first posted in 2009.

    At my age, there is a tendency to be stop and take stock of life, to reflect and to check if I am on course. Hence, such inspiring stories never fail to remind me of the brevity of life and how we must seize the day and opportunities to touch lives.

    In an IT savvy age, it is so easy to be desensitized by trivial pursuits or to lose that human part of us - the ability to care,to feel and to be kind to one another.

    May you and your family be blessed with many opportunities to touch lives everyday!

    Have a wonderful life!

    Blessings to you and yours

  1. says:

    cin2tan 2day I went to the flea market in Ipoh .

    # A Malay man wanted to buy a shirt priced at 8/= but he counter offered 5/= saja ; " 5/= tak boleh , 7/= lah" said the seller.
    After the disappointed man walked away I picked it up : 90% new & branded CROCODILE but sized XL not mine M ! somehow I bought it & hoped to see the poor man & tell him the shirt was too BIG for & he could have it for 5/= . BUT i saw him no more as i walked through the huge crowd !

    # At the fruit stall : big red rambutan at 4/= a kilo but 10/= for 3. An Indian woman wanted only a kilo but tak mau pay 4/= !
    I told her to give me 3/= & i took out 7/= : she walked away happily with a kilo & i had 2 kilo with a joyful heart !!

    # I dropped some coins into the boxes of the poor beggars : a Chinese woman with 2 kids , a Malay blind man, a cacat Indian man & another Chinese woman groaning : ' tolong tolong , kaki tak boleh jalan, tangan tak boleh kerja ...tolong tolong !"
    As I walked away i saw a Malay man giving money to the Chinese woman !!

    # ....tearful sights .....!!

    For those who could pay hugely for the WWW plates PLEASE come to the flea market on Sunday from 7am !

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