Joe Loftus tells this touching story that should make all our hearts not only feel warm but also remind us of how God can use us if we find ourselves in a similar situation:

Joe says: I arrived before sunrise at an address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be the last ride on 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 an elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged up to the door. After a long pause, the door opened. A small, frail woman 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 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 for me?’ she asked politely. 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 through downtown on the way?’ ‘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 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. ‘I’m 90 years old and the doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. Just tell me what route you’d like to take,’ I said.

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. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and she would sit there, 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 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 call, 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 are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around our great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware – beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small thing. People may not remember exactly what you did, or precisely what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

Thank you, Joe, for sharing your story with us. But most of all, thank you God for giving all of us opportunities to be Your vessels and instruments of kindness, love, grace, and mercy in a world that for some has become a dark, dreary, lonesome, and sad place. Thank you Jesus, for reminding us every once in a while how we felt when You stopped and helped us when we were hopelessly lost in sin and despair. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for your touch that changed our lives when you opened our eyes to see that we were not alone, that someone up above loved us no matter who we were or what we had done, and led us to the safety of the Rock. – Dr. Robert R Seyda