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       #Post#: 8084--------------------------------------------------
       A Moment In Time
       By: Helen Date: December 4, 2015, 1:19 pm
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       A True Story.
       Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived
       in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that 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.”
       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.
       A true story~  by
       Kent Nerburn
       #Post#: 8085--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Pat Date: December 4, 2015, 2:27 pm
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       Lovely Helen, if only more of us were like that.  I hope I can
       be.
       #Post#: 8086--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Dave Date: December 4, 2015, 11:45 pm
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       Thanks Helen, gives kindness a whole new meaning.
       #Post#: 8093--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: James Date: December 5, 2015, 10:30 am
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       What a wonderful touching story, so easy to miss a God given
       oportunity to let his virtue flow out.
       #Post#: 8098--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Helen Date: December 6, 2015, 2:19 pm
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       Just a story.
       Once upon a time, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to
       door to pay his way through school, found he had only one dime
       left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at
       the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young
       woman opened the door.
       Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he
       looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk.
       He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”
       “You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us
       never to accept pay for doing a kindness.”
       He said, “Then I thank you from my heart.”
       As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger
       physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had
       been ready to give up and quit.
       Year’s later that young woman became critically ill. The local
       doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city,
       where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.
       Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he
       heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled
       his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the
       hospital to her room.
       Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He
       recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room
       determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he
       gave special attention to the case.
       After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested
       the business office to give the final bill to him for approval.
       He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and then the
       bill was sent to her room.
       She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take her the
       rest of her life to pay for it. Finally she looked, and
       something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She
       began to read the following words:
       “Paid in full with one glass of milk.
       Signed, Dr. Howard Kelly.”
       #Post#: 8099--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Dave Date: December 6, 2015, 10:41 pm
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       Got to love those tear jerkers just before bed. What a great
       word, Kindness.
       #Post#: 8104--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: James Date: December 7, 2015, 4:31 am
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       I agree a real tear jerker. Made me well up.
       Love is kind, how we miss the opportunity to be kind because we
       are in such a rush to do things that are "important".
       #Post#: 8206--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Helen Date: December 20, 2015, 12:00 pm
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       Here is another "Moment in Time"
       I got this from Tom today, an old friend from days gone by. I
       felt it worth posting.
       A CHANCE MEETING
       Earlier this week I was rushing to meet the deadlines of the
       day—appointments, errands, emails,
       texts, and phone messages all awaited my quick response.
       Christmas cards needed to be stamped and
       mailed before the post office closed. In my haste I almost
       collided with a gentleman leaving the
       post office as I was entering.  As we met in the doorway he
       smiled and extended his hand in a
       gesture of greeting.
       “Hello brother, I’m Fred,” he said in a warm mellow voice.
       “ I’m Tom, I responded.”
       He held tightly to my hand. His grip was strong and confident
       for such a frail little man. He was a
       bit stooped, not well kept, and he seemed to have difficulty
       lifting his head, but those piercing
       eyes,,, ! He continued the conversation still grasping my hand
       and all the while I wondered, Do I
       know this man? I don’t remember ever having met him.
       “Tom, I’m 88 years old,” he said joyfully. “God has been so
       good to me. I’m a cancer survivor and
       He’s given me more days to praise Him.”
       “Well you certainly are doing that, Fred. God bless you,” I
       said with a forced smile, hoping to get
       on with my business.
       “Oh! He has, Tom,” he said, refusing to loosen the grip on my
       relaxed handshake and ignoring my
       effort to leave. I really don’t have time for this, I thought.
       Fred continued to share more details of his life’s pilgrimage in
       far more detail than I can go into
       here. Suffice it to say, as he spoke, it was clear he had not
       had an easy life; yet, he shared as a
       victor, not a victim. It was as though he knew complaining would
       be giving praise to the devil. As
       he spoke I began feeling my body relax, and suddenly a sense of
       peace come over me that I can’t
       explain. The multitude of demands on me were now matters that no
       longer mattered. I was not in a
       hurry. I became genuinely interested in his story, and I was
       deeply moved by it. He repeatedly
       referred to me as ‘brother,’ and I, at first, had considered him
       only a stranger who liked to talk;
       now I wanted him to continue. I wanted to know more. He loosened
       his grip, but I no longer wanted
       him to let go. I was receiving from him an infusion of life I
       had not expected. I fought back tears
       as he hugged me and went on his way.
       As I left the Post Office, my thoughts focused on the
       significance of that ‘chance’ meeting with the
       stranger. Who exactly was he? He had called me brother, yet I
       was as much a stranger to him as he
       was to me.  Could he have been an angel and I was unaware? I sat
       in the car for a while trying to
       compose myself as I reflected on the engaging encounter.
       A scripture came to mind, “He was despised, and rejected of men;
       a man of sorrows, and acquainted
       with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was
       despised; and we esteemed him not”
       Isaiah 53:3. How like Jesus Fred was!
       I then realized if for no other reason than to get my attention,
       that ‘chance meeting’ had cleared
       my fog and caused me to remember something my Dad taught me many
       years ago. “Son,” he said, “People
       are more important than ‘stuff’.”  As I meditated on those
       words, I regretted having been so
       insensitive and self-absorbed when Fred and I met in the
       doorway. I prayed, “Jesus, keep me focused
       on what’s really important—people, not my stuff.”
       Christmas is a time to rejoice with family and friends as we
       celebrate God’s greatest gift to
       us—Himself!    May it never be said of us, “He came unto his
       own, and his own received him not” John
       1:11.
       Joanne joins me in wishing each of you a Merry and Blessed
       Christmas.
       Thomas R. Rowe, Jr.
       
       #Post#: 8207--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: James Date: December 20, 2015, 4:07 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       One thing about Tom , he has always for as long as I have known
       him had a big heart.
       That was a good story and so true, people are valuable and worth
       so much more than our stuff.
       Can you tell Tom I said hello Helen, please.
       #Post#: 8209--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A Moment In Time
       By: Helen Date: December 20, 2015, 5:04 pm
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       Okay, I will give him your " happy Christmas. "
       Winston made him Chaplain of his company about 4 years ago. He
       puts out an uplifting email to all Winston fellow colleges (
       that spelling look very " off" ) every Monday as a rule.
       Sometimes Tom hit a good one. This one had heart.
       I can easily ask him to add you if you like....like all of
       us...some times "good", sometimes 'very good,' and sometimes
       just mediocre.
       I only ever respond to him about twice a year...so it's a no
       sweat thing.
       Dave calls him from time to time for a chat.
       Gary Rhemire died last week...that was a shock! Massive heart
       attack. You know him, but probably don't know that you know
       him...he and his wife lived with us when we all emigrated to
       Edmonton. How young we all were. He was only 24 then, I was 34
       then!!! Haha!! They lived down stairs and John Austin and family
       lived up stairs.
       Ring any bells? You were there.
       We can't offend anyone on her, by talking about people that they
       don't know can we? There is no one here to offend any more. ;D
       
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