Editors note: As a gift to all of those who haven’t read it, I am posting a story written by Kent Nerburn that I found circling the web yesterday. I was so deeply moved by this, I cannot express it in words. I hope it moves you as much as it did me, and share it with as many others as you can.
By Kent Nerburn
“ We may not all live holy lives, but we live in a
world alive with holy moments .”
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
It was a cowboy’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.
What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry.
Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, and made me laugh and weep.
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night. I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.