When you think of a vocation you usually think of someone who has dedicated his or her life to a higher cause, such as a priest, a rabbi, or a nun. The problem with this way of thinking is that vocation, which means calling, tends to be relegated and limited to a very few instead of including all of God’s people.
God created everyone, and everyone is called by God to do His will on earth, no matter what their state in life might be. Vocation belongs to everybody : to married couples, to single people, to the clergy and to those called to religious life. Vocation is not the monopoly of any individual or group. On the contrary, it is the prerogative of everyone to exercise his or her God-given vocation in life.
The scriptures speak a lot about vocation and offer most valuable insights into man’s calling to do God’s will on earth. Hence the need to meditate on the scriptures regularly to learn how to comport oneself in thought, word, and deed. When Jesus talks about vocation, He puts it very simply : ” Follow Me.” The vocation of every Christian then is simply to follow the example of Jesus in his or her life.
Example is the best form of illustration. Thus I’d like to share with you a true story of how a taxi-driver ( whose name will remain anonymous ) exercised his vocation in life.
“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 vocation.
“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, made me laugh and made me cry.
” 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 duplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some party goers 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 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 depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This was my vocation and the passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
“Then a frail, elderly voice answered. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman stood before me. She was wearing a pink 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, gently. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist her. 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 treat my Mother.’
“‘Oh, you’re such a good boy,’ she said, patting my hand.
“When we got in the cab, she gave me the address, then asked, ‘ Could you drive through downtown?’
“’It’s not the shortest way,’” I answered.
“‘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, trying to smother a sob.
“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 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 caring, watching her every move. They had 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.
“Without even 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 from the bottom of my heart.’
“I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of a life closing behind me. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove around, lost in thought.
“For the rest of that day, I could only meditate on the enormity of my vocation. What if that woman got 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?
“What if?
“We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider small things like comforting the sick, helping your neighbor in need, driving a little, old lady.”
Whatever your walk in life, treat it like a vocation and experience the joy. If everybody only played his or her part like this taxi-driver, the world would be a much better place.
Its never too late to start. You cannot go back and start all over, but you can start now and make a brand new beginning.
Its never too late to respond to your vocation.
4 Comments
Mary
Oh Father, what a beautiful story. As I sit with tears strolling down my face, I couldn’t agree with you more.
Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of live and the lives of the people you put in front of us. May we always treat each moment as a gift and be opened to do Your Holy Will. We ask this in Jesus’ Precious Name, Amen.
Paulette Leonard
I agree with Mary I read it with tears rolling down my face thinking wouldn’t life be wonderful if we all lived our vocation that way?
Patricia
💕🙏😊
Hugh Duffy
Thanks for your touching comments, Mary and Paulette.