A priest was driving along and saw a nun on the side of the road, he stopped and offered her a lift which she gladly accepted. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to open and reveal a lovely leg. The priest had a look and nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg. The nun looked at him and immediately said, “Father, remember psalm 129?” The priest was flustered and apologized profusely. He forced himself to remove his hand. However, he was unable to remove his eyes from her leg. Further on, while changing gear, he let his hand slide up leg again. The nun once again said, “Father, remember psalm 129?” Once again the priest apologized. “Sorry sister, but the mind is weak.” Arriving at the convent, the nun got out, gave him a meaningful glance and went on her way. On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to retrieve a bible and looked up psalm 129. It said, “Go forth and seek; further up, and you will find glory.”
The moral of the story?
Always be well informed in your job; Or you might miss a great opportunity.
LOL!
Anyway, I'll be away in Jakarta till the 5th to visit my dad, leaving this evening. so, sorry if I don't reply okay! :)
hope I don't come back with H1N1. or maybe by next week it would have become so bad that need to quarantine. OH MY.
ta-ta! :D
I arrived at the address where someone had requested a very early morning taxi.. I honked but no one came out. I honked again; nothing. 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 90'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 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 the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clock on the walls, no knick-knacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bad 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 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 neighbourhood 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. 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 had 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 loss in thought. For the rest of the day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, and then driven away? In retrospect, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
Thank you, my friend.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here, we might as well dance.