Lets all enjoy the six day of Christmas, with the angel miracle, "Angel Hails A Cab" Lots of love, light, hugs and happiness. &, Uma "Ten years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It's a cowboys life, a life for someone who doesn't want a boss. What I didn't realize was that it is 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, made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one Christmas Eve.''My life was in great turmoil. I had had a terrible divorce. My two kids were on the other side of the world and hated me. I had no one to go home to. In fact, I didn't even have a home anymore. All I had was an empty apartment that looked and felt as dead as I felt inside."The one thing that gave me a sense of purpose in an otherwise purposeless life was doing my job as a cabbie. Compared to my dingy little prison of an apartment with no one to talk to, being out on the road on Christmas Eve wasn't so bad. At least I might have someone to talk to. "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 partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town. "When I arrived between 11:30 and midnight, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. ... '"Under the circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too any 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 needed my assistance, I reasoned to myself. "I went up to the apartment and politely knocked on the door. 'Just a minute, answered a frail, elderly voice. After a long pause, the door opened. A small, bent-over woman in her 80s stood before me. 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 in sheets.There were no clocks on the walls, no knicknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. "I thought all this strange but said nothing. This little old lady was so sweet that I didn't want to upset her in the slightest. In fact, she began to tug at my heart. She reminded me so much of my own grandma. I felt such an intense wave of heartfelt compassion that I had to steady myself. "I could see from her empty apartment that she was as lonely and friendless as myself. 'Would you please carry my bag, young man?' she asked. I took the suitcase to the cab, then assisted the woman into the car. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "'It's nothing,' 1 told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my grandmother treated. "Oh, you're such a good boy,' she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me the address she wanted to go to, but first she made an unusual request. 'Could you drive me there by way of going through downtown?' she asked meekly. "It's not the shortest way, I said quickly."'Oh, 1 don't mind,' she said no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.' "I looked in the rearview mirror.Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says 1 don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like to take, ma'am? I asked. "For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me 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 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 through the horizon, she suddenly said: I've been waiting for this.' "'Ma'am?' I asked. " 'I wanted to see Christmas morning one last time,' she said. Before I could respond, she said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now.' "'All right,' I said, trying to choke back the tears. We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a small convalescent home. Its driveway passed under a portico. "Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were intent and solicitous, 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 replied, trying to remain steady. "Then, almost without thinking, I bent over and gave her a hug. She held on to me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you. "I squeezed her hand then walked back out 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 the day, 1 could hardly talk. What if that little old lady 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? "Later that day, I decided I had to go back to the hospice center. I wanted to spend some more time with her, listening to her. I wanted to be a friend. A friend who wasn't getting paid to help her. Someone who wasn't a hospital orderly or nurse just looking at one of hundreds of 'old people' they could care less about. "I went through the doors of Admissions and approached the lady at the desk who looked up at me. 'Yes? '" 'I'm here topay a visit to the nice old lady I drove here today.' I then realized that I didn't have her name. The receptionist looked at me oddly. 'Sir, this is Christmas. There haven"t been any new admissions to this hospice today." '''No, I remember. I brought her here this morning. Two orderlies came out and helped her into a wheelchair.' "'Sir, no new patient was admitted here today,' she said, eyeing me strangely. It was then that a cold chill shot through me. I must've been in the company of some kind of angel. The whole shock of having experienced something so supernatural, especially on Christmas Day, really started freaking me out. Then I realized that instead of a weird Twilight Zone type thing, what happened to me was a good thing. A spiritual thing that made me reassess my life. It made me start to see about the things that really mattered. "In a way, I don't think 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 what you did or what you said, but how you made them feel," Robert says with a smile.