Disclosure: I read the “NYC Taxi Driver” written knick-knack on Facebook. I hate that my critical mind immediately resolves to: “This REEKS of being a chain letter or creative writing”. Nonetheless… real experiences like this do happen AND it is a sweet, short, and thought provoking story.
It’s amazing how incredibly profound simple love, kindness, and consideration can be. It’s also unfortunate how intermittent and scarce it can be throughout our days. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, and self-control may not always be easy, but the mechanics are decidedly simple. It merely involves surrendering our hearts, preferences, and lives before God… gosh darn that whole “dying to self” calling thing.
Many small acts of love, care, and kindness in marriage, family, and in seemingly benign daily activities can surely write a wonderfully compelling life story that points to and radiates Christ-likeness. These moments indicate the Holy Spirit’s movement in our lives. They also allow us to experience deeper redemption and sanctification that can bloom into more wholly pursuing and fulfilling the Great Commission in many ways.
Small decisions of love add up. Small decisions change our hearts day by day. Small decisions are acts of surrender and selflessness. Small decisions transform and renew our minds and hearts. Small decisions pave the way for more small decisions. Small decisions allow us to experience the Truth of scripture and promises of Christ.Small decisions increase in magnitude and impact. Small decisions can initiate an unstoppable chain reaction. Small decisions move people and infect community. Small decisions provide a foundation for a powerfully big life story that impacts and create generational legacy. This is our calling, opportunity, and invitations as servants of Christ.
An NYC Taxi Driver’s Story:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 90’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 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 to be 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
‘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 in a soft voice..’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, 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.