From the Pastor’s Heart

I suspect many of you might share with me a personality trait. Now, I do think of myself as an impatient person. What I think is I am just a person who does not like to wait! Yet in this season of Advent, what we are called to do is wait: to wait for the delight of Christmas Eve; to wait for the joy of Christmas Day; to wait, once again, to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.

If we fail to be patient and wait we often miss out on the blessings God has in store for us. I came across the following story: The Cab Ride (author unknown), a story of the patience of a cab driver and it is also a timely story for Christmas.

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. 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 impoverished people who depend 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 along 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 to 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 of 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, and then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and walked slowly to 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 to the cab, she gave me an address, and 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 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 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 down 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 over 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 not waited and refused to take the run, or had honked once, then drove away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

And so we are called to wait. In this joyous time, Advent, we are called to wait in hope and anticipation, for we know at the end of our wait stands Jesus the Christ.

My Christmas prayer for each of you is that you not miss the blessings God has planned for you in your waiting. I pray that we all join together in waiting in joy, in anticipation, in hope this Advent Season. For in this Advent Season and all the Seasons of the year the Holy Spirit journeys with us to our destination. We are not alone. God has gifted us with Emmanuel (God with us.)

“But as Joseph considered this, behold an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. All this took place to fulfill what the Lord has spoken by the prophet: ‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel (which means God with us) Matthew 1: 20-23.

Advent and Christmas Blessings in your waiting,
Pastor Russel