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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
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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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