The Hidden Passenger: A Small Act That Saved a Life

I work as a minibus driver. Most days I have several rides, usually large families, and many days, I’m driving from morning until night.

One particular day, I had clients nonstop. By six in the evening, I was completely wiped out. After dropping off my last family, I turned toward home, looking forward to a warm meal and some rest.

I live in a small community near Jerusalem, and thankfully, traffic wasn’t too bad. Just as I was about to get on the highway, my phone rang. A family from Bnei Brak was calling. They asked if I might be available for a last-minute job. Their original driver had canceled, and they needed to get to a wedding in Jerusalem. Would I be willing to take them?

I sighed. I was exhausted. I hadn’t eaten. But they were offering good money and I know what it means to be stuck, so I agreed.

When I got to their home, I gave them a call from outside. They were so relieved and told me the kids were already coming down. A moment later, there was a knock at my window. A little girl, maybe eight years old, asked if she could get in.

I got out to stretch and opened the sliding door for her. She hopped in quickly and settled into a seat. Moments later, the rest of the family came down, father, mother, and a bunch of kids.

The drive was pleasant. I chatted with the father most of the way. We arrived at the wedding hall a little before 8:00 PM. I wished them mazal tov and headed back to the highway on my way home.

Just as I was turning into my street, the phone rang. It was my wife.

“Meir, where are you?” she asked.

“Baruch Hashem, I’m almost home,” I said. “What a day! I’m starving and so tired you wouldn’t believe. After the four jobs I told you about, another family booked me last-minute from Bnei Brak to Jerusalem when their driver canceled.”

“Oh, Meir...” she said with a sigh. “You forgot. Remember my class tonight?”

My stomach dropped. Right. She had a class. I had completely forgotten.

“Could you maybe take a cab?” I asked gently, hoping she’d say yes.

There was a pause. Then she said, “I could… but honestly? You drove a whole family to Jerusalem when you were already exhausted for money. But when it’s for your wife, it’s different?”

Her words hit me hard.

“No, you’re right,” I said. “I’ll take you. I’m happy to.”

A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of our building. She was already waiting outside with a warm smile. “Thank you so much, Meir. I really appreciate it,” she said, climbing into the front seat.

She turned around to buckle her seatbelt and suddenly let out a cry. “Meir! Who’s that?”

I turned around and there she was. The little girl from Bnei Brak, still in the minibus. She had been fast asleep, but my wife’s voice startled her awake, and now she was crying.

My wife quickly climbed to the back to comfort her. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. We’ll take you home. Just tell us where you live.” But the poor girl was too shaken to speak.

“They’re not at home,” I said to my wife. “The whole family is at a wedding in Jerusalem. I can’t believe they haven’t called me yet. How could they not realize a child is missing?”

My wife kept speaking gently to the girl, stroking her hand, trying to calm her down. I pulled back onto the highway, heading straight for the wedding hall.

About half an hour later, we arrived. I ran inside, found the father, and said, “You left one of your daughters in the minibus!”

He looked stunned. “Are you serious? I’ll call my wife.”

We stepped into the lobby, and soon his wife came over.

“You remember the driver?” he asked her. “He says we left one of our daughters in the minibus.”

“Impossible,” she said immediately. “All our kids are here. How would I not notice?”

My heart sank. It suddenly became clear. I asked if they might at least recognize the child, maybe she was a neighbor? But they looked completely confused.

“Wait,” I said. “Why didn’t you say anything when she got in?”

The father shrugged. “We thought she was your daughter.”

Meanwhile, my wife had finally managed to get the girl to calm down and tell us her name and age. She gently asked where the girl lived. This time, thank G-d, she was able to say her address.

I quickly looked up the number for the area and called her home.

“She’s with you? Thank G-d! Where are you? Is she okay?” the mother cried.

I told her we were at a wedding hall in Jerusalem and asked where she lived.

“Twenty minutes away,” she said, breathless. “The whole neighborhood has been searching for her!”

When we got there, the girl flew into her mother’s arms. The relief was overwhelming.

We learned what had happened. Every week, she travels to Bnei Brak with a group of girls from her school for a special program. They always have the same minibus driver, he has a white minibus, just like mine. That night, without realizing it, she accidentally got into my vehicle and fell asleep.

I shudder when I think about what could have happened. If I had insisted I was too tired, convinced my wife to take a cab, and left the minibus parked for the night, this little girl could have been locked inside. It was a hot night. The news is full of tragic stories like that.

But Hashem watches over every soul. In the merit of doing a chesed (act of kindness) for my wife, I was spared from disaster and the little girl, though shaken, was returned safely to her family.