Network Marketing Journey

Below is a story I recieved via email. It was sent to me because of some recent discussions I’ve had with some dear friends on the subject of writing. I was telling them, by way of email, about my view of writing and how a writer finds the sweet spot and the words flow. They’ve discovered their ‘voice’ and it connects with people inspiring them.

As a result of those thoughts an email was sent to me, and it tells a story about a woman. Its not about writing but it illustrates the point I was making and then some. The writer spoke from the heart and I have to say, this story touched me.

Recently, on the Joyful Jubilant Learning Network I read a post by Rosa Say asking people to contribute one thing that they’ve learned in the past year. This story sums up the thought that I will be sending in very nicely. I learned to see the unseen and in this instance I’m not talking about business or making money. I mean seeing the people around you. Giving people your time, acknowledging them and sharing of yourself is paramount in this life.

We are all in it together and sharing, loving and inspiring each other makes for a far better world. I like Neale Donald Walsch’s idea of Humanity’s Team. I’m on that team and so are you. Always remember that as people come and go throughout your days.

The Cab Ride

This is a great read..enjoy!!

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, and 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, 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 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 & stopped; 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 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 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.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT ‘YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
Author Unkown- Message Universal

Who’s life did you touch today??

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