The Uber ride was supposed to be impersonal and transactional – a paid trip between two points on a map – until a confession heard from the backseat made it a journey into another life.
You open the door and settle silently at the back seat, prepared for the familiar quiet. Then you see it: a circle of woven thread, adorned with feathers and beads that swayed from the rearview mirror. A dream catcher.
“The dreams,” he says as his eyes met yours in the mirror when you ask. His voice soft. “I have them on my doorway and in my bedroom – they help catch the bad ones.” He is sixty-eight, retired, divorced, and drives to keep busy. “There is no one waiting at home,” he adds. He tells you about his stage three chronic kidney disease, his fear of being on dialysis. He speaks of lemon water, fasting, giving up his favorite hoagie and chocolate candy – his stubborn pursuit of healing. His life, vivid, fills the space between you.
You feel it then— a familiar name rising to your lips. A whisper about a different comfort, a different healing from a God who sees all. But you hold it on your tongue, and the moment passes. Your street appears. You get off with a “thank you”, then a quick tap for a tip and a five-star rating.
As you end your day, your thoughts drift back to that 25-minute Uber ride. Was it a missed opportunity not to profess your faith? Or perhaps, by not doing so, you honored his story, his pain, and his symbol. Faith, after all, is about love. And the love described in 1 Corinthians 13, is patient, kind, and “does not seek its own benefit.”
Perhaps in that moment you simply had to listen. To learn about dream catchers and the resilience of the human spirit. To see the image of God in a retired man who spends his days on the road and carries himself with quiet dignity.