Louis (not his real name) was the 50-something Haitian cab-driver who picked me up from O'Hare Int'tl Airport and drove me to my sister's house.
I'm a chatty sort and because we were stuck in traffic, I started asking Louis questions.
Louis works 16 hour days, 7 days a week. He has five children. He came to the United States from Haiti twelve years ago--by himself. He worked hard for seven years before bringing all his children to Chicago.
His children arrived not speaking a word of English. Five years later, they speak it fluently and his eldest child was accepted to a prestigious Illinois university.
Louis used to work at a higher paying job, but he was laid off when the economy went bad. Now he works as a cab driver which he says is not a great job because people are trying to save money by taking buses or trains.
I asked Louis what he does for fun--which I immediately realized was the lamest question ever. He just sorta looked at me in the rearview mirror and shook his head.
"There is no fun," he said. "No vacation. No holidays. Just work and sleep."
I think it was at that moment I realized how sheltered, how privileged, how insanely oblivious I am to the world outside my little stay-at-home-mom bubble.
"Do you at least take Christmas day off?" I asked, weakly.
"No," he said. "If I park the car, that's money I'm losing."
Louis' dream in life is to give his children the possibility of a better life. He said he plans on working 16 hour days for the next 10 years and then going back home to Haiti when his youngest child is 19.
And then, somehow, we were talking about religion and God. It was a natural segue, really. Louis knows a little something about sacrifice and selfless love.
"I don't go to church anymore," he admitted. "But I do keep the faith!"
I was amazed--and ashamed of myself. For some reason, I had expected Louis to be an atheist--or at least an agnostic. I mean, how could someone who enjoys so few of life's joys believe in a benevolent God?
But no. Louis was downright cheerful about his intact belief system.
Sometimes I think I've gone through a lot when it comes to crises of faith. But would I still "keep the faith" if I had to work 16 hour days, 7 days a week?
Would the one single hope of making a better life for my children be enough for me?
Honestly, it was a pretty convicting taxi ride.
A few moments later we arrived at my sister's house. Louis pulled my suitcase out of the trunk of his cab.
I thanked him profusely. And then I tipped him generously.
It was my way of saying thank you for a safe ride. And also for being the finest example of sacrificial love and genuine faith that I've met in a very long while.
